Leisure enriches our lives with gratification. Work, on the other hand, adds value and meaning to our lives. Imagine an absence of either of them.

You wake up one day and find yourself in an 18th-century workhouse. You are forced to hard labor for at least 18 hours each day. You are overworked and sleep-deprived, yet you continue to toil for a shabby meal. You dream with open eyes, thinking about blue sky and distant stars. Any fleeting thought or memory that might distract your mind from your present turmoil becomes your companion in misery. You want your suffering to end but you are stuck in a loop. Your soul dies a little every day. Your body becomes diseased and starts to rot. You hate your life and you want to end it. Sounds horrible! Doesn’t it?
Let’s experience the other end of the rope.
You wake up one day and find yourself in a mansion, surrounded with numerous helps. You have clean rooms, clean clothes, timely meals, and a tended garden. In short, there is no activity which requires your attention or supervision. You read interesting books and listen to music from all over the world. Days pass by, weeks vanish, months flee; the only constant sound is the ticking of a clock. Books appear uninteresting, music stops calming you down; you run around the mansion in a manic fit, trying to find something worth doing but all you see are clouds of leisure spread evenly till your eyes can see. You start acting crazy and pull your hair in a raging fit. You hate your life and you want to end it. Sounds horrible! Doesn’t it?
Leisure enriches our lives with gratification. Work, on the other hand, adds value and meaning to our lives. Absence or abundance of any of them can lead to a disaster.
A unique distinction between humans and animals is the understanding of time. We constantly live in all three avenues of time; past, present and future. We constantly ponder upon the past and waste our present, worrying about the future.
The correct way to go about is to understand that time is an expensive commodity. Even if you were born poor, you were showered with this priceless bounty called time. But it’s also so fleeting that anyone can steal it away from us. So, we have to use wisely, the little time we got, before it all runs out.
Most of our time is wasted in useless actions, entertainment, and things which are not of purpose.
You start working on a writing assignment and minutes later you find yourself on YouTube. You have no clue, how this happened.
You begin your day by trying to tidy up your room and end up playing PS4. You did not do it deliberately, I know.
You decide to go out to get groceries but end up chatting with a friend. Not your fault!
Let’s try a different approach. The first step about fixing any problem is to acknowledge the problem. You need to understand that you have limited time.
This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.
You are dying daily and you need to grab every hour in your grasp.
Even with all the wealth in the world, you cannot buy a single second; that’s how priceless time is!

Once you have understood that your time is running out, you have won half the battle. Now plan and execute!
Your 24hr day should be divided in 3 components – Work, Leisure, and sleep.
Work – An ideal job steals 8 – 10 hours of your day. It’s important because it’s easy money. Till the time you have not achieved financial independence, you need to work for someone else. You cannot be master of your time; you cannot be totally free until you have earned the right. So happily lend 10 hours to your job. But shit doesn’t end here. What about your dreams? What about investing in you?
You thought of that great business idea, you want to monetize your creativity; for all of these, you need time to acquire new skills and hone them. Set aside 4-5 hours for self-improvement.
Leisure – After 15 hours of work, you earned the right to waste maybe 1 hour. Text that attractive female you wanted to go out with. Ask her out for a date. Listen to Morrison. Read Dostoyevsky.
Sleep – Good night and sleep well. 8 hours of training ahead. After such a disciplined day, your subconscious would train you in your sleep for another exciting day ahead. Nothing beats good, old, sleep after a hard, productive day.
What better way to end this chapter than a quote from the masters!

“Nothing, Lucilius, is ours, except time. We were entrusted by nature with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who will can oust us from possession. What fools these mortals be! They allow the cheapest and most useless things, which can easily be replaced, to be charged in the reckoning, after they have acquired them; but they never regard themselves as in debt when they have received some of that precious commodity—time! And yet time is the one loan which even a grateful recipient cannot repay.” – Seneca

Viruses represent life at the most primitive level imaginable. Resentful of life without nourishment and reproduction, this particular group of organisms prefer absolute dormancy over microbial socialising. For hosts nice enough to offer them a place to crash for the night, an unpleasant experience often follows – for viruses tend to overstay their welcome, and not only that – the guest tissues are renovated to suit their needs to the limits of emptying food coffers and establishing new colonies for their newly born children to live and do the same thing over again. While this may read as disgusting social behaviour and a distasteful mindset on the part of viruses, an interesting analogy could be made for another group of organisms that boast of ample cranial capacity along with admirable abilities with respect to natural consciousness – a mammal species of ape descendants that happens to be the most successful at living out the Virusian Dream.

Just as scientific research has indicated microbes evolving to becoming immune to various methods employed for complete annihilation of their colonies (stemming from the noble sentiment of having had quite enough of casually inflicted holocausts), these creatures that inhabit dry, oxygen-rich regions upon their host too have managed to safeguard themselves from their own challenges of life. Locally sourced tissue of the host, such as wood and stone, has been used and fought over for burrowing purposes – a clever mechanical barrier from common atrocities they wish to avoid. A natural programming serves them to help out their fellows, either directly and individually or indirectly in organised forces. For countless generations, ever-growing modifications to the code has caused these pathogens to survive for a longer time. One of the established challenges is nourishment, and to overcome this, certain factions become providers and others remain consumers, interchangeably; another is physical modification of their environment, which is done at the levels ranging from within burrows and outside burrows, to colonies of burrows. Countless similar challenges have been dealt with, ensuring an undisturbed and polished evolution grasping for perfection. Wherever life isn’t sustainable, it is forced to be so!

When creatures not in equilibrium with their environment are allowed to wreak havoc upon it, and produce copious number of generations still, an ugly natural truth is exposed: Charles Darwin’s phrase survival of the fittest is actually a reference to life’s property to be dominated by the most destructive of its creations. Must life itself be termed as a disease then, and humans, highly evolved pathogens? Quite so, and this would shatter humanity’s illusions of superiority. Every step taken for self-improvement, self-preservation, and communal well-being could only be viewed as blind programming aimed at prolongation of generations and sustenance of life, which in turn has proved to be organised destruction. As humans, we may find natural order disorderly, for it interferes with our protected illusions. We may find solace in our collective strengths, in glorious feats scaled by us to protect our way of consumerist living and uplift our sense of self-awareness. Till when, I ask? Our host may eventually shrug us off, or we may kill ourselves off over time. There is some solace for it in that.

If however we find the idea of Virusian Life pleasurable, I would say that we go straight past Denial, Anger, Bargaining and Depression to A C C E P T A N C E.

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Before we begin, let’s revisit our understanding of a meaningful relationship. Predominantly there are two sorts of relationship. One is referred as therapeutic wherein you enjoy your time together and get healthy. The other one is based on a primate dominance hierarchy in which one party is a slave and the other one is a master. Such a relationship is mostly considered unhealthy and damaging.

Let’s pause for a moment. Prior to understanding complexities involving relationships and how to overcome them, we need to understand if and why we need them. New age kids have found a pseudo mechanism wherein relationships are replaced with short term acquaintance. Internet has brought people closer but feelings are as distant as they were in medieval ages. The first step towards an amicable solution is understanding the importance of a meaningful relationship. I am going to make a very strong statement – We need people. Yes! Irrespective of how relative we consider freedom of existence, we cannot be totally free from the basic genetic social component. Even a hermit is delighted with an occasional visitor and cherishes a disciple. In the same manner meaningful relationships nourish us as a human being and help us get better.

Now comes the most challenging part: How to sustain a relationship? I have met countless individuals who have great social skills and make friends easily but none of these relationships last longer than few months. One needs to wonder why?

Well, the problem sounds complex but the solution is too easy. We do not communicate. Communication means listening and then talking efficiently. Most of us in this fast paced world skip the first step. We do not listen. We wait for our turn to speak. Whenever we meet someone, our first goal is mostly to acquire dominance. We barely pay attention to what they are saying or feeling or expressing. We focus on putting our point across as quickly as possible. We are quick in brushing off their issues with remarks like – Ya I know, yup life’s difficult, shit happens, blah and blah and blah. What we fail to understand is we are actually minimizing their personal conflicts and making them feel petty. This in turn helps us feel better and we walk away from the conversation as a confident person. All we are doing is acting like a primate and giving way to our most basic primal urges.

A better way would be listening and trying to learn from the other person. Each individual would have at least one new thing to offer us, if we listen. We can always ask questions to seek clarity. We can always paraphrase. Instead of being on top of the conversation we can stay in the conversation and after few of such sessions; both the individuals would have a healthy flow of ideas. So if you really want to have a meaningful relationship unlike baboons : Listen.

Waking up is always the most important part of the day. You wake up, you look around, you find everything you care about is falling apart. You prefer going back to bed. Your stomach growls, makes some noises, you grab some leftovers with a little booze and stuff it inside. You are aware stuffing in or not – nothing would ever change. You feed yourself because you do not have the constitution to starve yourself to death. You further intoxicate yourself to numb your senses. You indulge in a handful of other escape phenomenon – watching tv shows, playing video games, mastrubating; then you go back to bed. Sounds like an ideal day!

A little more productive day would be maybe working for a corporation while you are zoned out. You are there, you are present physically but your soul keeps on wandering off in the gallows of nothingness. Not that I am questioning your lifestyle but what if I can suggest you a better alternative?

Your life is perfect. You are a philosopher. You are not an average Joe. You are the most unique Joe. You belong to the long list of awakened souls – nihilists. Any action you take has no meaning so you prefer not to give a fuck. That’s my philosophy too. I am pretty aware that the less you care, the simpler is your life. The only challenge with this philosophy is – you cease to exist. There is no hope for a better tomorrow and no longing for a missed yesterday. Not that it matters but a little hope isn’t that bad.

So, here a working model for a better tomorrow suited for nihilists-

Stop punishing yourself: The world was, is and would always remain an ugly place. There is absolutely nothing anyone can do to make things better. What you can do is make it bearable for yourself and people around. So, the first step is stop punishing yourself. You are suffering and more suffering wouldn’t ease your misery.

Find a goal: Easier said than done, I know but it’s essential. While figuring for a long term goal develop micro habits. Get up and make your bed. Clean your room. Those empty walls around you have committed no crime. Cover those naked walls with some paintings, quotes, inspiring celebrity posters, whatever turns your crank. Cook your breakfast. Wash your clothes.

Measure your success: You would fail. Not once, not twice, countless times but remember whenever you fail, you never begin from the first step, you only repeat the last step, hence technically you didn’t fail. Someday you would succeed and you would feel better.

All said and done, the reality would still remain the same. This world is an ugly place and it would continue to haunt you till your last breath. It’s your choice how to look at it. It’s your choice how to interact with it. Whether you want to numb yourself or feel the occasional joy amidst tons of sorrow, choose wisely.

Today we all happily live in our humble, yet comfortable adobes and proudly enjoy the love of our family and friends. We all have access to basic amenities of life and we make the most out of it. Our children very proudly march to the national anthem in their respective educational institutions. Long Live our countries and Long Live our children. May God always be merciful on us and keep on blessing us with his gift of love.

We all are not just decent but also great human beings. We take care of our youngers and elders equally. We lead a happy and blissful life. We also make sure that we contribute towards the good of society and most of us enthusiastically participate in social and charitable events.

I wanted to wish all of you a very happy and blissful life ahead. May we all flourish equally.

Despite of our good nature most of us are either oblivious to the injustice towards the poor, needy, oppressed, minority, women and kids or choose not to engage in such depressing conversations. I am completely with you in your point of view because I used to cultivate similar thoughts.

We are a part of a capitalist society where the principle of existence is based on making money. We need to be at par with the changes of times, if we wish to lead happy lives. I understand your need to become rich and I would not demean it by labelling you greedy. We all have our dear ones to feed and clothe. We need to extravagantly marry our sisters and daughters to socially display our love towards them. Even as cavemen we had the desire to own homes and what’s wrong to own a fancy, comfortable roof. In the end, we all want better lives for ourselves and our families.

We celebrate festivals, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, even death at times. We make sure we proudly donate to our corporate endorsed 13 charitable organizations who very proudly claim to be helping animals, children, people and literacy. We also donate billions of dollars annually to religious institutions. Even your little one’s never shy away from leaving $1 in the charity boxes outside temples, mosques, and churches. All this money comes out from your banks debited by the goodness inside your hearts.

Today I just wanted to ask a question.

Where does all this money go?

AS far as I remember the poor were poor and the needy were needy and the oppressed were oppressed and the women were victims and the children were abandoned, when I was 7 years old. I used to cry a lot seeing them suffer. I am 27 years old now. It’s been 20 years watching people suffer and trillions of dollars donated to end their sufferings. Surprisingly they still suffer and oddly I still cry, each morning, every afternoon, evenings and before I attempt a failed sleep.

It’s beyond my reasoning to understand this degree of failure of these so called charitable and religious institutions.

A BrokenRadio initiative for underprivileged children

We, BrokenRadio run an online blog majorly focussing on making the world a better place.

Due to our revolutionary unbiased take on social issues funding has started pouring in from across the globe.

As much delighted we were because of such overwhelming support, initially, our spirits were crushed when we realized that these funding are either religiously or politically motivated. As much as we want to help people, we cannot indulge in blood money. Religions breed hatred and kill people. Governments thrive on fear and enslave people.

If any of you good souls wish to stop contributing to the failed charitable and religious institutions, we would happily engage in your small contribution. Any little support towards this bigger cause would be highly appreciated.

We want to change the world and we want to make it a better place, for our children. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and Alexander the great had a fleet. We are powerless without your support. We would encourage you to contact us with selfless funding assistance. In return, we would show you how powerful is a smile of a needy and how fake is the society endorsed by those who are greedy. Hope for your assistance.

She moved slowly, towards himWith a definite paceHe moved slowly, away from herWith a chaotic paceThey moved closer with a swayThey parted away with decayEverything is falling apartNothing is staticIt’s appalling

Those smiles fadedLame cries echoedNo one to cheerSouls lack the ability to hearThose painful cries wrapped in loveShut down feelingsEverything is falling apartNothing is static

She smiled for a last nightTears rolled down those pale cheeksSalty are her bleeding lipsBlood dried between open legsNothing is staticEverything is falling apart

It’s appalling She would go to find a new homeToday! This day!The end; She said⁠⁠⁠⁠

It was the Persian poet Amir Khusru who referred to Kashmir as a paradise on earth. There is an old stone plaque in, Shalimar Gardens, which proclaims “Agar Firdaus bar rōy-e zamin ast, hamin ast-o hamin ast-o hamin ast,” meaning “If there is a paradise upon earth, it is here, it is here, it is here“.

It is also mentioned that when Jahangir was asked on his deathbed about his cherished desire he is credited to have said:

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ISLAMABAD — Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif resigned on July 28 shortly after the country’s Supreme Court ordered his removal from office in connection with corruption charges stemming from the Panama Papers leak in 2016.

The five-judge panel’s unanimous decision, issued amid tight security in the capital of Islamabad, and Sharif’s immediate resignation plunged the nuclear-armed nation into a political crisis.

The court ruling came immediately after an investigative panel alleged that Sharif’s family could not account for what it said was vast wealth in offshore companies.

“He is no longer eligible to be an honest member of the parliament, and he ceases to be holding the office of prime minister,” Ejaz Afzal Khan, one of the judges, said in court.

In a brief statement, Sharif’s office said Sharif “relinquished his charge” as prime minister after learning of the Supreme Court’s decision.

The statement suggested that the decision was unjust and said Sharif had “serious reservations about the judicial process,” but that he stepped down to show his respect for the judiciary and rule of law.

Crowds were assembled outside the Supreme Court in Islamabad, where more than 3,000 security personnel were deployed ahead of the ruling.

Opponents of Sharif celebrated the decision.

“Pakistan’s courts have made a prime minister accountable,”opposition Tehrik-e Insaf party member Fawad Chaudhry said, adding: “Today is a day of victory for Pakistan.”

Pakistani media reported that a criminal investigation would also be launched against Sharif, who was serving as prime minister for the third time, and his family.

He has repeatedly denied any wrongdoing in the case while calling the inquiry into his family’s finances a conspiracy.

“This is not accountability, it is revenge,” Railways Minister Khawaja Saad Rafiq tweeted before the verdict. “In an effort dislodge us, the democratic system has been made a target.”

The Supreme Court also ordered a criminal investigation into the assets of Finance Minister Ishaq Dar, an ally of Sharif who has been credited with helping Pakistan’s economy reach its fastest pace of growth in a decade.

Sharif’s ruling Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) party, which has a majority in parliament, is expected to name a new prime minister to hold office until elections due next year.

Pakistan’s figurehead president, Mamnoon Hussain, is expected to convene the National Assembly once Sharif’s party nominates a successor.

Sharif, 67, is among the major political casualties of the Panama Papers leaks that brought offshore finance under the spotlight.

Documents from the Panama-based Mossack Fonseca law firm that were made public in April 2016 revealed that three of Sharif’s four children owned offshore companies and assets not shown on his family’s wealth statement.

Sharif’s son Hussain Nawaz at the time acknowledged owning offshore companies but insisted they used legal money to set up businesses abroad.

In 2016, Iceland’s prime minister, Sigmundur Davíd Gunnlaugsson, stepped down amid public outrage that his family had sheltered money offshore.

One of Sharif’s two previous stints as prime minister was cut short by a military coup in 1999.

He returned from exile to win a convincing victory in parliamentary elections in 2013.

No prime minister has completed a full term in power in Pakistan since the country gained independence from British colonial rule in 1947.

Sharif’s brother, Shehbaz, who is chief minister of Punjab province, is a possible contender for the prime minister’s job.

Sardar Ayaz Sadiq, the speaker of the national assembly; Shahid Khaqan Abbasi, the minister of petroleum; Khurram Dastgir Khan, the commerce minister; and Defense Minister Khawaja Muhammad Asif have also been named as possible contenders.

Pakistan’s Supreme Court had once previously disqualified a prime minister. In 2012, it ruled that Prime Minister Yusuf Raza Gilani was guilty of contempt and ordered him removed from office.

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Today, we, your trusted brand, would like to thank you for being such an ass-it (asset) for our brand…Not only do you enjoy our, over-priced, unaffordable, unreal, not at all necessary, goods but you also extend the courtesy of flaunting it to your friends…In the silly hope that this activity in turn would help your garner appreciation…We always appreciate your stupidity…In order to celebrate such degree of enlightenment, we your friendly, trusted brand has slashed our prices by 50%, terms and conditions applied, sale only on old stock, no returns and no refunds, no exchange either… This 50% discount is just for you and the dream just doesn’t end here… It gets better..The moment you buy 5 goods and more, let me remind you at only 50% of it’s original price, you then, my friend, would be entitled to win a coupon… This coupon would not be provided to everyone but only and only to you, because you bought 5 garments or more, that too for flat 50% …

This coupon is your lucky break which you have been waiting since ages…Trust us as we are your friendly, trusted brand… This coupon would allow you to win, a car, a house and a lovely wife…Yes, a wife, we said it…You do not have to shrug your shoulders in disbelief…We do have a collection of lovely, needy wives whom we would happily like you to enjoy…So you see how much we care about you….We offering you, a once in a lifetime offer, to make all your dreams come true and that offer comes with a free coupon…and in order to get that coupon, all you have to do, is to buy 5 items or more from your trusted, friendly brand at 50% off….

There you go it’s an exclusive offer…mind it…today till 5pm only…

Rush to your nearby store! Keep your credit card handy! You may also visit our website but entire collection not available online. And remember, when you shop, the world gets better.

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Today is the luckiest day of your lifetime…Today you would receive a gift, greater than mankind…This gift would change the way you see yourself…You would no longer feel any pain, any suffering…The gift would set you free…You would be able to buy goods, eg: cars, clothes, houses, boats; speedy one and the one which floats, motorbikes, super kites, sleepless nights, once again, you would feel sane and young ..You no longer would have grey hair, you can visit expensive salons and get essential beauty treatments… Everyone in the dazzling malls would like your shine and you would come home and fuck your wife, while she finishes her wine.. the same wine which you would get because of the gift,

you are about to receive!

These are the little things, let me skip to the most appealing part…In times of dire stress, we cover your front and back, we would also make this gift earn you some reward points, which then combined by many other reward points, which you would earn after spending thousands of dollars, would then add up to $1 that would be donated to help the starving and the poor…..That gift my friend is here…

Childhood is a curious stage of our lives. We encounter with and learn to deal; an entirely, never felt before, fresh set of feelings. Feelings unknown to self! Feelings which our enslaved consciousness is conditioned to consider, prohibited!

Each incident, we experience in our lives, both small and huge, is always unique, in it’s own flimsy way. Each experience adds knowledge to our vast data base. Though our minds have been tamed by targeted, suppressive, behaviour training, by widely regarded institutions, we still have a crude, primal being, inside, wriggling in pain, searching for truth. The truth of our existence, which is hidden, behind all those, numerous, false stories, we tell us and the world, each morning and every night.

Growing up was fun. The solo objective of Nik’s days were not to get caught. You need to tread carefully, if you want to experience fun, for longer periods. Getting caught can change the equation and dampen your free spirits. Hence, Follow the rules and break them, when no one’s watching! That was his motto of life during those days.

‘Are you crazy? You want us to skip college, in order to, watch some movie, you find fascinating! Do you want to get us expelled?‘ shouted Max, as loud as his lungs allowed. He made sure, he displayed emotions of anger, using his facial expressions. Conversations, both friendly and unfriendly, are more impactful when proper display of emotions is added.

‘Not some movie, that is where, you are entirely wrong. The movie is named – Fight Club, based on the novel by the same name. This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time. ‘Your’ being the highlight of the moment. It’s your life, your time, your mistakes, your decisions, your contemplation, again, your mistakes and your failures. So you can decide whether you would like to use your time in order to understand something, larger than your petty life or you choose to follow, mundane, set guidelines of your so-called educational institution.’

And Nik continued preaching his philosophy –

“The essence of our educational system is to help us learn the art of making money. This in itself is a flawed concept, as money is a reward for success. Instead of learning, the art of making money, we should be learning how to identify and nurture our passions. Passion fuels our success, which in turn, generates, money, as a bi-product……You are advised to borrow money from financial institutions to achieve your temporary goals which are determined, not by you but by different, failed institutions of society, eg: Family, Schools, Colleges, Government, Corporations, Temples, Mosques and churches…

You need stuff! A big fucking television, an Iphone, a luxury car, a DSLR, social networking presence, celebrations in bars, branded clothing, matching footwear, planned vacations, tax benefits and a place to call home. Now, the world knows, you cannot buy any of these, without being successful. Even if your parents hand it to you, you would not be able to enjoy, the fruits of nothingness. Hence we got banks! They are such nice institutions that they offer you assistance, to buy your dreams, on easy installments. Welcome to the corporate endorsed world where happiness sells on billboards and if you find happiness expensive, your friendly banker would loan you money, which then you can pay back, till you die, of course, using an easy, payback, monthly, installment plan, which you are free to choose from many plans.

Sip a coffee, Drink a cola, You just sold yourself!”

This excerpt is from Nishant’s – Broken Radio – Novel. This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

Today we are going to talk about ‘Past’. Dictionary definition being – ”gone by in time and no longer existing.” It is important, to understand, past, as it’s an imperative variable in the equation of our lives. Throughout our lives, we mostly, see ourselves through our memories of the past.

Now, with the advent of science, it has been proven that memories are not at all a reliable source of information. We human beings deal with emotions in a very complicated manner. We keep things to ourselves and we say things, we do not mean. The society is mostly a cluster of people who either wish to lead or wish to be lead. The leader exercises control to experience gratification of power and the led ones cheerfully witness exploitation to experience gratification of a false sense of security.

Due to such restricted approach, we do not clearly remember anything. We either modify it, in terms that help us feel better. Or, we plainly choose to forget. So mostly, memories are a way, we repeat a lie to ourselves. The more we think about a past event, the more likely it is that, we start believing our own set of lies. We create these lies for temporary gratification. But revisits, by our subconscious, restores the profound clarity.

Hence, we do not remember the truth and act on false cluster of facts. This mostly sets us to experience personal failure.

Now, the remedy, is not to purely trust your instincts while indulging in defining, decision making. Your instincts are a stimuli response of your subconscious, based on your lies, hence it’s unreliable. Inviting suggestions is another way of being led. So, you cannot act on anyone’s suggestions. The only proven alternative to achieve success is by experiencing failure. Yes, I am saying – make mistakes!

The more number of times you would fail, the higher are the chances of success in your future attempts. Gear yourself up, for repeated failures, so that you live and learn in present and not follow your life’s past pattern of failures, you fail in a new manner, each morning, everyday, Fail! And then you might experience – Success.

Pillow talk is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. The less tenured is a relationship, the more impactful are pillow talks. It has been two years, now, since Dia and Nik moved in together but their love is still as potent, as it was, the first night.

They make sure that the fire doesn’t burn down. Dia sits on Nik’s lap while he continues to shower her with nimble kisses. He loves licking her skin, with his tongue. He starts from her neck and continues going till her belly button, pauses for a second and then glides from her bellybutton to her thighs, till her toes.

After burning some more calories Nik proposes, ‘Hey sweetie pie, we have been together for long and surprisingly, it’s working out, let’s get married.’Dia gets surprised on hearing Nik talk about marriage.‘You hate marriages,’ she enquires.‘Yes, in principle, I do but I want to, spend the rest of my life, with you!’

‘You know, I can’t get married to a non-Muslim. It’s a sin for me,’ she states blatantly.

‘And what about this? Is this not a sin?’ he says while his hands, play, with her breasts. She moans in pleasure and whispers,

‘There are sins which can be forgiven and there are some which cannot. Sleeping with you makes me a sinner but I still would get forgiveness. Marrying a Kaffir is haraam. No forgiveness there’‘You and your beliefs, never made sense to me. You do know, you are twisting facts?’‘How come you don’t believe in anything?’ asks Dia, in order to deflect.

‘I believe in nature. I do believe, in the universe. I believe in Kabir, Krishna, Mira, Jesus, Prophet but not as gods, as Rock stars. They were original Rock stars. They had long hair, their own bands, their original tunes; they had groupies, and they held concerts. I do believe in something and that is pretty straight. Not at all twisted!’

‘You and your beliefs never made sense to me,’ Dia says while biting him on his neck and they laugh.They continue indulging in each other while Nik manages to convince Dia, that if it’s all the same to her, they should get married; If not a real one, then just, as an, interesting activity! ‘Let’s get married for fun!’Nik pleads for hours, before, Dia agrees to take it as a fun activity and together they march to a registrar’s office. They dress fancy and enter the offices of – ‘Gun & Marriage licence.’

They wait, there, for a while. Nik wore his happy face.A clerk asks them to come to the desk.‘Gun license would be ready in two hours. Marriage licenses take a week. What are you here for?’ asks the clerk.‘I need a license,’ replies Nik.‘Which model?’‘Oh no! I don’t need it for a gun. I need it to get married,’ says Nik.

The clerk looks at him, then looks at Dia, then looks at both of them and points his finger, towards few forms. ‘Fill these forms and come after a week!’Nik wanted to get married the same day.

‘I want this to be done by today’s evening. I can pay you extra, if that would help,’ he pleads. ‘I wish. Marriages, take time, my friend. Go for a gun instead. I would get you a licence by evening’ answers the clerk, sadly.

Dia looks at Nik, and they both burst into laughter. They leave, from that office and go to a nearby ice-cream parlour.

Eating ice cream, together, is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. Nik loved vanilla and Dia loved strawberry. They order a two in one.

Source: Broken Radio(novel by Nishant). This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

“Waterfalls” , the hit 1994 Grammy nominated single was TLC’s hard hitting portrayal of how people chase intangible dreams without sparing a thought to the consequences of their actions. The words remain true even today.

A lonely mother gazing out of the windowStaring at her son that she just can’t touchIf at any time he’s in a jam, she’ll be by his sideBut he doesn’t realize he hurts her so muchBut all the praying just ain’t helping at allCause he can’t seem to keep his self out of troubleSo he goes out and he makes his money the best way he knows howAnother body laying cold in the gutterListen to me

The first verse of the song describes an inner city mother & son relationship. The mother knows he is chasing “waterfalls” (money and respect by dealing drugs), but worries for him because she is all too aware that the actions of his son cannot end well. She tries praying it all away but to no avail and so the helpless mother is in a painful place.

Don’t go chasing waterfallsPlease stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used toI know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at allBut I think you’re moving too fast

Little precious has a natural obsession for temptationBut he just can’t seeShe gives him loving that his body can’t handleBut all he can say is, “Baby it’s good to me”One day he goes and take a glimpse in the mirrorBut he doesn’t recognize his own faceHis health is fading and he doesn’t know whyThree letters took him to his final resting placeY’all, don’t hear me

The second verse depicts a man’s relationship with a woman. His “waterfall” is casual sex – he has a “natural obsession for temptation.” This could mean he is cheating on someone or the woman he is seeing is cheating on someone. Either way, he contracts HIV and dies (“three letters took him to his final resting place”). As a matter of fact, TLC were big on AIDS awareness – Left Eye would often wear condoms attached to her clothes and in her glasses to promote safe sex.

BrokenRadio Theaters present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) & Nishant (Broken Radio).

Act II – Begins,

( The stage is brightly lit with various performers dancing in the background. Nik is standing on the stage with few pages in his hand. He has, his reading glasses, on. The music fades away..performers continue dancing. Nik addresses the audience)

Nik : The title in itself, is enigmatic. The poetess is comparing two cosmic events. One being Eid and other falling in Love. The poetess talks about a confused and unsure kind of love, that is really rare and yet the most captivating. (He comes forward on the stage) The protagonist to whom the poetess address as the ‘Dark Prince‘… is a great admirer of her and is madly in love with her. As much, as the poetess tries not to develop similar feelings, she does get smitten, eventually. Mostly, the poem talks about their secret encounters and exchange of words.. What poetess envies the most is when she experiences cosmic love, the Dark Prince is not their celebrating the rise in the sky; Eid.. As much as the poetess hates it, she’s willing to give him another chance as she too is hopelessly in love. (Nik throws the pages in air) But then again, who knows poetry.. It’s always, what’s not said, never, what is.

Well, the rise in the sky and fall on the earth shows, how you take me high in the skies and then throw me down on the ground. I experience a bliss in a moment and in the next, you abandon me mercilessly. When the world spoke about us, You said; my destiny walked into my door. My pride and your ego clashed and doomed were we. Then one night we met again after your endless efforts of getting me back. And we celebrated the festival like it was the last Eid on earth. You said – it’s us against the world, give me time, cope with me.

(The stage fills itself with mystic silence. We could hear loud breathing.)

Nik: (murmurs slowly to himself) There was silence in the air. All three of us were breathing heavily. Me, her and Johnnie Walker. (Nik walks away from Kate and continues murmuring) I am jealous of this Dark Prince, Kate dedicated a poem for him! (Looks at a picture of another women) The only lines she ever dedicated to me was – “I am nobody’s fool” and it took me weeks to understand, what it really meant.

Kate: Life was perfect!

Nik: (walks near Kate) Well, let me dedicate my prayers for your eternal, blissful, family stamped, first love. If this doesn’t see a happy ending, then love should, atleast, not be in dictionary and books should paint it black, with dark ink.

Kate: That’s so accurately put. This is not love, though! (pauses for a moment, looks lost in memories) I don’t know, what love is..

Nik: What is it, then? I have no clue, what love is! Truly, Sincerely, Please tell me.

(The performers swarm the stage and start dancing rigorously, there is no music, playing, in the background)

Kate: It’s hard to express. Maybe 10000 pages or maybe less! Why are you, so intent to know the definition of love?

Nik: I need to write about love and I have not, ever, experienced it. Hence the curiousity. I want to know, what love is!

Kate: (looks at him for a moment, lovingly, addresses the audience) Love is divine, it makes you experience the most extreme emotions that you were oblivious of. But it’s got one and only one rule; You have to forget self love and even if you can’t, have, your love, for yourself, forever, smile and be grateful for the memories and experiences. Love does not mean achieving. Love needs no labels, no possessions, no ownership. You welcome it’s arrival, with a smile, and then you let it go, with a smile. (looks at Nik and continues) So, If your fav doll is lost, don’t cry, rather cherish the moment you had with it and live life.

Nik: That does make a lot of sense, Miss. But, I need a clarification. I guess, in our lifetime, we experience love more than once. So is their something also called – True Love? Or it’s the same every time!

Kate: (addresses the audience) I don’t know, that’s an interesting question. According to me, love is just once, But that does not mean it seals your fate. You carry on and live life, settle for someone really charming, who makes you happy.

Nik: (looks at Kate) Would you care to know my thoughts? (Doesn’t wait for her response and continues, addresses the audience) To understand love, we need to understand time. (dancers in the background are not at all performing in sync, each artist seems to be following their own steps, the stage suddenly gets chaotic, lights flicker)

There is past, present and future. Past is all memories and Future is entirely imagination. So, what matters is now! Present matters. Not what happened a moment ago, not what might happen next, No fear, no assumption, Just now – living in the moment. (Goes near Kate) What are you doing now? (she thinks, he doesn’t wait for her response and continues speaking to the audience) Right now…right fucking now…She is experiencing release of adrenaline and dopamine, look at her, how happy she seems (there is a sadness on Kate’s face) We are experiencing effects of tiny pills laced with love. (Nik comes to the edge of the stage and yells)

There is no absolute love. That is a cosmic event.. Barely happens.. I am trying to recreate, but still it takes ages.. This is day to day love.. What people call love, when they talk about love. What humanity needs to experience, is, Cosmic love. Feeling of being around even during absences.. Dreams.. Mutual dreams.. You communicate without words. You close your eyes and your partner feels you missing them… Love is not necessarily both sided.. Moon and the sea try and hug each other, failing, every full moon night..When the moon is completely naked.. That’s the love I talk about. That’s the love I want to experience. I want to know what love is!

Kate: (holds his hand) Look at us, making a failed attempt at defining love..

(They both stare into each other eyes. Curtains Fall, Crowd goes crazy, Crowd whistles among the loud thud)

Play Ends.

Whoa! That was something. Huh? Let me make breakfast, she would be awake soon. You enjoy your friendly Tupperware! Have a nice day.

It’s a lovely evening, indeed. There is a dazzling, shimmering, reason behind this love, in the evening. Yesterday morning, I released the first chapter of my 2nd book – Smokes & Strings – Boulevard of Broken Art. It’s a love story. A twisted one.

I had my doubts, because, what do I know? I, have, never been in love. I just experienced what television sold, not the books…the Television. I went out on dates in shopping malls, bought gifts and had sex. It did seem like love, back then. Now, I am a grown up. I no longer watch television. I only read books and I only talk to writers. And, I want to know what love is…..

I asked my friend, Khadija Fatima – Author of You Think You Know ,”Do you know, what love is?” She sent me a poem. The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth. But then we all know, we need to figure out ART. It’s always ”what’s not said” and never, ”what is”.

So, I made some failed attempts to understand it and finally gave up. I, then again, asked her to explain….And we both ended up writing this play….

Ladies and Gentlemen, Tonight’s entertainment is a play about love, loss, pride, humility and then, love, again. BrokenRadio Theatres Present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) and Nishant (Broken Radio) .

Act I – Begins,

Lift the curtains!

(Crowd Cheers, Loud applause, A remarkably thin male is sitting on a stool, in front of a stunningly beautiful female. They both are in their prime youth and seem very cheerful. The entire stage is lit with bright lights, with no gloominess in any corner, apart from, in the eyes of, both the protagonists)

Nik: How are we doing today, Kate. What are we doing?

Kate: Heya! Ahh been occupied. I had company. Now, was enjoying my alone time, and then you walked in and sat, there, right, on that stool.

Nik: Well, if anyone would have such a delightful company as you, blessed are those few.

Kate: Ain’t you guys just too nice.

Nik: Well, you pay me to be nice. I think, I should get at least twice the amount you pay me, because, of the time I invest in you . Your project, I mean!

Kate: Oh, I didn’t know, I pay you to be nice.

Nik: Yeah, a very unfair amount though but then there are other perks which I truly enjoy.

Kate: Yes, glamor, I agree cause I just love it. We’re both sarcastic.

Nik: I am not. Talk about yourself, Lady! (pauses, clears throat) You are the friendliest ‘client’, I ever had the pleasure to service. Never met someone with your potential, in this, big, bad, round, uneven, world.

(A smiles spreads on Kate’s face and the black and white lights change to a rainbow)

Nik: (stammers) Oh, Okay, no more for today, then. (Pauses for a second. Dramatic music plays in the background, for a second. Music stops) Glad, I have nothing to say about your, yesterday’s picture. It just made me speechless.

Kate: (blushes) Oh, about that, I think, I was too happy yesterday since everyone loved my poem. So, hence the glow. (Comes closer, and whispers in his ears) Even, in the theatre people were staring madly. (Pulls her face back and continues talking). So, Yeah, partial credit goes to you for publishing it. And my makeup of course 😸 I love shimmer!

Nik: (Comes closer, and stares in her eyes) The stares were all for you, so, you deserve the credit. (lights go dim, girl bows down) Shimmer, loves, being on you. (pulls her closer) You think, you know, let me tell you something, Ignorance is bliss.

(Lights are back. It’s just a white, bright light. Nik and Kate adjust their seats, the moment lights, change color. There is a chaotic silence on the stage. The background music is of an animal being choked to death. The music gets louder. Nik stands up. Kate pulls her chair farther away from him.)

Kate: (coldly, her voice comes from far to the audience) So, what could you make from the poem?

Nik: (Addresses the audience) And the poetess wants to know… What, the commoner sees… Okay!

I am a big fan of prologue. But today, I choose to stay mum, cause today’s speaker says a lot, that changed a lot.

It is good to speak clearly….In order to conquer something we have to take it away from somebody….That something we must conquer — the country’s sovereignty — has to be taken away from that somebody called monopoly….It means that our road to liberation will be opened up with victory over the monopolies…. The revolution has to be “radical,” and has to “destroy the roots of evil” that afflicts humanity in order to “eliminate injustice.” It is the revolution, and the revolution is the people….It is time to get onboard the new ship of state, or get off….The enemy might well retaliate…Together we will all be saved or we will sink….I think one has to constantly think on behalf of masses and not on behalf of individuals….It’s criminal to think of individuals because the needs of the individual become completely weakened in the face of the needs of the human conglomeration….Popular forces can win a war against any army….It is not necessary to wait for the conditions to be right to begin the revolution; we people can create them….Terrorism is valuable only when used to put to death some noted leader of the oppressing forces well known for his cruelty, his efficiency in repression, or for other qualities that make his elimination useful….The essence of real warfare is that each one the fighter..people..should be ready to die, not to defend an ideal but rather to convert it into reality….

And here’s institutions discussing something very important…Pay a little attention to that as well –

Do they deserve prison with the hope that one day they can be useful to Society?

Noooo!

Should they be shot, as exemplary punishment to all future generations?

Yeeees!

Afzal Guru – Kashmiri Rebel

“As criminal acts took place pursuant to the conspiracy, the appellant, as a party to the conspiracy, shall be deemed to have abetted the offence. In fact, he took active part in a series of steps taken to pursue the objective of conspiracy.”

Supreme Court of India, Judgement on Appeal by Afzal Guru on August 5, 2005.

Like this:

“It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.” ― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

What’s the worst nightmare you’ve experienced in your lifetime?

Nothing can prepare you for the violence, torture, humiliation and gross maltreatment meted out to Junko Furuta at the tender age of just 17 years. The events that lead up to her death are so profoundly shocking that they can have but one of two instant reactions from someone, either utter disbelief or mind numbing shock. Her incessant torture and sexual abuse, that lasted 41 days was carried out by 4 teenaged boys, all under 17 years old themselves, points to a disturbing reality, that it doesn’t take a hardened criminal to subject another human being to cruelty, it just takes a criminal bent of mind. The violent streak in a person is not something that escalates from the first crime onward, it is rather a chance for him or her to act out on the need for carrying out violence that roots itself in their subconscious from what does seem to be a reasonably long time.

The atrocities inflicted upon Furuta seem to be from a script of a horror movie. Her ordeal began on the first day of her kidnapping, to last upto 44 days during which, she was subjected to all kinds of abuse imaginable. As per their own confession, the boys took turns raping her repeatedly for a total of over 400 times, fed her cockroaches & forced to drink her own urine. She was forced to masturbate, was burnt with cigarettes repeatedly, and was violated with foreign objects introduced in her vagina and anus.

Since she had gone missing suddenly, there was a clear danger of her parents getting worried and reporting the matter to the police, which could lead to a manhunt. To eliminate the possibility, the boys made her call her parents and tell them that she had she had left home and had gone away, but was with her friends and was safe.

The motive or reason behind the crime remains unclear.

On December 1, 1988, cruelty went several notches up, and Junko was severely beaten up a number of times. She was hung from the ceiling and was used as a punch bag. Her nose was filled by her own blood to the extent that she could only breathe through her mouth. When she was brought down from the ceiling, dumbbells were dropped on her stomach. The damage done to her internal organs was considerable, which is why she could not hold water inside despite being thirsty. When she asked for water and was given some to drink, she vomited it out almost as soon as she drunk it.

She also made an attempt to escape, but was caught and was punished by being burnt with cigarette butts. Inflammable liquid was poured on her arms and legs and she was set on fire for having tried to run away. Not just that; a bottle was also inserted up her anus causing injury.

Ten days later, on December 10, 1988, when she could not walk properly due to severe burns on the legs, she was beaten up by bamboo sticks. According to some unconfirmed reports, fireworks were inserted in her anus and were lit. She was beaten up by golf clubs and her hands were smashed by weights used for exercising and her nails were cracked to inflict pain.

Ten days later, the boys poured hot wax on her face and her eyelids burnt by cigarette lighter, and she was not only stabbed with sewing needles in the chest region, but her left nipple was also clipped with a plier and destroyed. Due to the insertion of objects in her vagina, she bled heavily, and was unable to urinate properly. The injuries to her private parts were so severe that it took over half an hour to crawl downstairs to use the lavatory to urinate. Her eardrums were also severely damaged though there is not much clarity about the real cause of the damage.

On the 40th day of her captivity, Junk virtually begged her abductors to kill her and end her unbearable suffering. But that was not to happen for another couple of days.

On January 4, 1989, the boys got furious over something and wanted to take it out on Furuta. They started hitting Furuta’s mutilated body with an iron barbell, and kept on until she started bleeding from her mouth. They also subjected her face and eyes to the flame of a candle. Thereafter, highly inflammable lighter fluid was poured on her arms and legs and she was set on fire alive. The fire was put out soon, but not soon enough to prevent injury; only soon enough to prevent immediate death.

Junko Furuta did not carry on any longer and died a couple of hours later the same day after suffering the unbearable agony for 41 days, which was further scaled up to the extreme in the final few hours of her life. Junko Furuta’s death was among the most painful individual deaths caused by human beings in the history of mankind.

On January 5, 1989, the boys filled a 55-gallon drum with concrete, dumped the dead girl’s body in the setting concrete. The drum was then cast away somewhere on the reclaimed land in Koto, Tokyo.

The boys were arrested, prosecuted and sentenced, but since they were juveniles at the time of committing the crime, the jail terms were lighter. They were sentenced to imprisonment ranging between four to seven years.

“Don’t you feel shame? I thought scum like you could at least feel shame” ― Kohta Hirano

An adrenaline junkie is somebody who engages in sensation-seeking behavior through “the pursuit of novel and intense experiences without regard for physical, social, legal or financial risk”. Such activities include extreme and risky sports, substance abuse, unsafe sex, and crime. The term relates to the increase in circulating levels of adrenaline during physiological stress.

Dopamine is another profound chemical. The effects of dopamine include increases in heart rate, body temperature, and sweating; improvements in alertness, attention, and endurance; increases in pleasure produced by rewarding events; but at higher doses agitation, anxiety, or even loss of contact with reality. Stimulants such as nicotine, cocaine and methamphetamine promote increased levels of dopamine.

Only a handful of addicts are aware that ART induces a combination of both adrenaline and dopamine. This evening a dear friend of mine, Author – Khadija Fatima – You think You know, made me read one of her poems. Well, I am high on her words ; A perfect blend of two of the planet’s most profound chemical.

As much as I wanna save this drug for myself, I cannot deprive the world from such beautiful poetry. So, Ladies & Gentlemen, this terrific evening, Broken Radio presents you, an original poem by Miss Khadija Fatima!

Like this:

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
― Jim Morrison

“The Crystal Ship”

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I’d like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We’ll meet again, we’ll meet again

Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You’d rather cry, I’d rather fly

The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I’ll drop a line

I was in bed when I heard the gate. I listened carefully. I didn’t hear anything else. But I heard that. I tried to wake Cliff. He was passed out. So I got up and went to the window. A big moon was laid over the mountains that went around the city. It was a white moon and covered with stars. Any damn fool could imagine a face there.

There was light enough so that I could see everything in the yard – lawn chairs, the willow tree, clothesline strung between the poles, the petunias, the fences, the gate standing wide open.

But nobody was moving around. There were no scary shadows. Everything lay in moonlight, and I could see the smallest things. The clothespins on the line for instance.

I put my hands on the glass to block out the moon. I looked some more. I listened. Then I went back to bed.

But I couldn’t get to sleep. I kept turning over. I thought about the gate standing open. It was like a dare.

Cliff’s breathing was awful to listen to. His mouth gaped open and his arms hugged his pale chest. He was taking up his side of the bed and most of mine.

I pushed and pushed on him. But he just groaned.

I stayed a while longer until I decided it was no use. I got up and got my slippers. I went to the kitchen and made tea and sat with it at the kitchen table. I smoked one of Cliff’s unfiltereds.

It was late. I didn’t want to look at the time. I drank the tea and smoked another cigarette. After a while I decided I’d go out and fasten up the gate.

So I got my robe.

The moon lighted up everything – houses and trees, poles and power lines, the whole world. I peered around the backyard before I stepped off the porch. A little breeze came along that made me close the robe.

I started for the gate.

There was a noise at the fences that separated our place from Sam Lawton’s place. I took a sharp look. Sam was leaning with his arms on his fence, there being two fences to lean on. He raised his fist to his mouth and gave a dry cough.

‘Evening Nancy’, Sam Lawton said.

I said, ‘Sam you scared me.’ I said, ‘What are you doing up?’ ‘Did you hear something?’ I said. ‘I heard the gate unlatch.’

He said, ‘I didn’t hear anything. Haven’t seen anything, either. It might have been the wind.’

He was chewing something. He looked at the open gate and shrugged. His hair was silvery in the moonlight and stood up on his head. I could see his long nose, the lines in his big sad face.

I said, ‘What are you doing up, Sam? and moved closer to the fence.

‘Want to see something?’ he said.

‘I’ll come round’, I said.

I let myself out and went along the walk. It felt funny walking around outside in my nightgown and my robe. I thought to myself that I should try to remember this, walking around outside like this.

Sam was standing over by the side of his house, his pyjamas way up high over his tan-and-white shoes. He was holding a flashlight in one hand and a can of something in the other.

Sam and Cliff used to be friends. Then one night they got to drinking. They had words. The next thing, Sam had built a fence and then Cliff built one too.

That was after Sam had lost Mille, gotten married again, and become a father again all in the space of no time at all. Millie had been a good friend until she died. She was only forty-five when she did it. Heart failure. It hit her just as she was coming into their drive. The car kept going and went through the back of the carport.

‘Look at this,’ Sam said, hitching his pyjama trousers and squatting down. He pointed his light at the ground.

I looked and saw some wormy things curled on a patch of dirt.

‘Slugs,’ he said. ‘I just gave them a dose of this’, he said, raising a can of something that looked like Ajax. ‘They’re taking over,’ he said, and worked whatever it was that he had in his mouth. He turned his head to one side and spit what could have been tobacco. ‘I have to keep at this to just come close to staying up with them.’ He turned his light on a jar that was filled with the things. ‘I put the bait out, and then every chance I get I come out here with this stuff. Bastards are all over. A crime what they can do. Look here,’ he said.

He got up. He took my arm and moved me over to his rosebushes. He showed me the little holes in the leaves.

‘Slugs’, he said. ‘Everywhere you look around here at night. I lay out bait and then I come out and get them,’ he said. ‘An awful invention, the slug. I save them up in that jar over there.’ He moved his light to under the rosebush.

A plane passed overhead. I imagined the people on it staring down at the ground.

‘Sam’, I said, ‘how’s everybody?’

‘They’re fine,’ he said, and shrugged.

He chewed on whatever it was he was chewing. ‘How’s Clifford?’ he said.

I said, ‘Same as ever.’

Sam said, ‘Sometimes when I’m out here after the slugs, I’ll look over in your direction.’ He said, ‘I wish me and Cliff were friends again. Look there now,’ he said, and drew a sharp breath. ‘There’s one there. See him? Right there where my light is.’ He had the beam directed onto the dirt under the rosebush. ‘Watch this,’ Sam said.

I closed my arms under my breasts and bent over to where he was shining his light. The thing stopped moving and turned its head from side to side. Then Sam was over it with his can of powder, sprinkling the powder down.

‘Slimy things’, he said.

The slug was twisting this way and that. Then it curled and straightened out. Sam picked up a toy shovel, and scooped the slug into it, and dumped it out in the jar.

‘I quit you know,’ Sam said. ‘Had to. For a while it was getting so I didn’t know up from down. We still keep it around the house but I don’t have much to do with it anymore.’

I nodded. He looked at me and he kept looking.

‘I’d better get back,’ I said.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll continue with what I’m doing and then when I’m finished, I’ll head in too.’

I said, ‘Good night, Sam.’

He said, ‘Listen.’ He stopped chewing. With his tongue, he pushed whatever it was behind his lower lip. ‘Tell Cliff I said hello.’

I said, ‘I’ll tell him you said so, Sam.’

Sam ran his hand through his silvery hair as if he was going to make it sit down once and for all, and then he used his hand to wave.

In the bedroom, I took off the robe, folded it, put it within reach. Without looking at the time, I checked to make sure the stem was out on the clock. Then I got into bed, pulled the covers up, and closed my eyes.

It was then that I remembered I’d forgotten to latch the gate.

I opened my eyes and lay there. I gave Cliff a little shake. He cleared his throat. He swallowed. Something caught and dribbled in his chest.

I don’t know. It made me think of those things that Sam Lawton was dumping powder on.

I thought for a minute of the world outside my house, and then didn’t have any more thoughts except the thought that I had to hurry up and sleep.

“What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” is not only the most well-known short story title of the latter part of the 20th century; it has come to stand for an entire aesthetic, the bare-bones prose style for which Raymond Carver became famous. Perhaps, it could be argued, too famous, at least for his fiction’s own good. Like those of Hemingway or any other writer similarly loved, imitated, parodied, and reviled, these stories can sometimes produce the sense of reading pastiche. “A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house.” “That morning she pours Teacher’s over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.” “My friend Mel McGinnis was talking. Mel is a cardiologist, and sometimes that gives him the right.” What other writer ever produced first sentences like these? They are like doors into Carverworld, where everyone speaks in simple declarative phrases, no one ever stops at one beer, and failure or violence are the true outcomes of the American dream.

Yet these stories bear careful re-reading, like any truly important and enduring work. For one thing, Carver is one of the few writers who can make desperation–cutting your ex-wife’s telephone cord in the middle of a conversation, standing on your own roof chunking rocks while a man with no hands takes your picture–deeply funny. Then there is the sheer craft that went into their creation. Despite their seeming simplicity, his tales are as artfully constructed as poems–and like poems, the best of them can make your breath catch in your throat. In the title piece, for instance, after the gin has been drunk, after the stories have been told, after the tensions in the room have come to the surface and subsided again, there comes a moment of strange lightness and peace: “I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.”

Much of what happens in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love (1981) happens offstage, and we’re left with tragedy’s props: booze, instant coffee, furniture from a failed marriage, cigarettes smoked in the middle of the night. This is not merely a matter of technique. Carver leaves out a great deal, but that’s only a measure of his characters’ vulnerability, the nerve endings his stories lay bare. To say anything more, one feels, would simply hurt too much. –Mary Park

Good Morning Planet. My name is Nik. I think, I live and I write. Among all three, I like writing more.

This story is about three artists. The first being – Me, of course. I have to be in the story. After all, the story is, where, I am! My father never watched TV. I am the inquisitive kind. I wanted to ask him, “Why didn’t you enjoy television, like the million others who indulge in the magnificent human insight, offered by the men and women inside that glowing tube?”

I wrote him a letter from prison. Well, calling my place of captivity, prison, would be lying, technically, ideally. But glad we do not live in an ideal, technical, world. No one needs to play by the rules. There is always a workaround.

So the story is about Me, Aisha and Karen.

Part I – The Escape

“Dear Father,

Hope you are doing great. I am having a good time, here, in this wonderful institution which takes care of my mental health. I intend to stay here, till the institution which oversees the lawful conduct of people, wishes, me, to. In the end, it’s never about love. Society is about fairness and law. Everyone is a just being. Love is a lost cause.

The things we do, in the name of love. So low..So low!

Now marriages don’t happen. Corporate mergers are the new holy union of souls.

Anyways, I often wonder, here, alone, in darkness, why do you hate television so much? We all have a need of drama in our lives. Where did you find yours?

Do write back. I would wait eagerly!

Your’s truly,

Son”

He woke up. He found himself in a strangely familiar place. If you live, life, on the run, waking up is always a confusing element of your day.

“On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.”

A little mixture of the right kitchen solvents, few pile of discarded wooden furniture, another humongous pile of dead patient files and an electric malfunctioning switch; Every building burns!

Fire, is the most remarkable invention in the human history. If used properly, fire alone is an answer to all your life problems. It certainly was for Nik. Lighting fire has become, more of a hobby for him. It also serves the need of a recreational activity. Lighting the facility on fire was ‘Step 1‘. He had carefully orchestrated his escape, in his deluded head. The facility had an underground sewage disposal system. He, due to his athletic body structure, could easily get flushed, out, if the water pressure is decent.

As soon as the fire alarms rang, the officials started hosing the place with high powered water hoses, resulting in temporary flooding of the premises. You can’t store water for too long. It’s liquid. Eventually it finds a way and seeps away.

Right now the only way to seep away was the sewage pipes and Nik was stuck in them. It was a futile struggle. In nanoseconds, water kicked Nik out of the way, and, held him tight, by the neck and took him with it. His head banged hundred a times before being flushed in a sewage treatment plant. The stink was unbearable. He had no strength to flee, but the smell kicked him, in the balls. He held his breath as long as he could, while he ran. He ran away. He ran until his lungs gave up. And he collapsed.

He woke up. He found himself in a strangely familiar place. If you live life on the run, waking up is always a confusing element of your day.

There was a girl sitting in front of him. She said,

“You have intensely sad eyes.”

Thousands of persons must have said the same thing to him since, but Aisha happened to be the first in the line. Anyone likes to hear flattering sentiments, and more than others, I suppose, artists. They like to be told every hour of the day how well they use their creativity.

Part II – Aisha

I reached the house at a run and rested a while in the lobby to regain my breath. I went in, brushing back my hair with my hand and composing my features. The door was open. As I entered, I heard her voice –

“You are early! What took you so long?“

She looked both sad and profound. I sat down on a stool near her.

“You are alone. I suppose, I should not stay long.”

She choose neither to acknowledge nor answer.

I looked at my watch. She had been away from him for nearly 8 hours. I was wasting time. Time was slipping through my fingers. If I were to make good, I should utilize this chance.

“Every night you generally sit up and cry, do you?” I asked boldly.

“When we are alone and start talking, we argue and quarrel over everything. We don’t agree on most matters, and then he leaves me alone and comes back and we are all right, that’s all.”

“It’s unthinkable that anyone should find it possible to quarrel or argue with you. You look like a smile machine for poor, tortured, souls. You are such a divine creature, even colors cannot paint, your reflection.”

She asked sharply, “What do you mean?”

I explained myself plainly. I was prepared to ruin myself today if need be, but I was going to talk and tell her. If she wanted to kick me out, she could do it after listening to me. I spoke my mind. Somehow, whenever we speak, time froze. Time became as slow as a tree falling in the forest.

Aisha lives at the Vista Regency, which is nothing but brown bricks held together with sleaze, where all the mattresses are sealed inside slippery plastic covers, so many people go there to die. You sit on any bed the wrong way, and you and the sheets and blanket slide right to the floor.

“Why did you marry at all?” I asked recklessly.

She remained moody and said, “I don’t know. It just happened. I guess, LOVE.”

“and it ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we’re talking about when we talk about love. All this, all of this love we’re talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I’m wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don’t know anything, and I’m the first one to admit it.”

― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”

I see love as a cosmic event that changes the course of our lives. True selfless love, obviously, contrary to what is currently sold by popular media ; Where love is found online via matrimony websites on the virtues of income. That’s our institution of marriage. The Holy union of souls. She also has a piece of paper validating her love for him.

A piece of paper is what is needed for two people to stay in love. – Society

Things we do, in the name of Love, so low…so low!

I sighed deeply, overcome with the sadness of her life. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently stroked it. “I am really very unhappy to think of you, such a gem lost to the world. In his place I would have made you a queen of the world.” She didn’t push away my hand. I let it travel and pushed my fingers through the locks of her hair.

Next day she visited my studio. She opened the – door, passed in, and hesitated, leaving the door half open. She stood looking at me for a moment, as on the first day.

If you really unite with your soulmate, you are doomed! Because you both would sit and talk and that is it. Now love is sex, money and revenge. An eternal revenge inflicted by two partners on each other for the sheer reason; they were not supposed to be together. Else time would freeze and it’s just that moment. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t wake up, you don’t breathe, You just look into each other eyes and float in the space. You experience Nirvana, a state even the most potent opioids fail to induce.

She went in the resident artist’s bedroom and closed the door. She came out after a short while. She had taken off all her ornaments. She didn’t have gold rings in her ears, no gold chain hung around her neck, her arms were empty, her alms were empty. Apart from the tiny piece of silk cloth, covering her modesty, she did not have anything that she ever called hers. I could see her naked image, that slender frame, it must have took, God, six days to create her. On the seventh day, he created the world. That explains her divine beauty and this filthy world.

I stood up, held her neck, as I gently pushed her towards the bed, out of the way, and stepped in and locked the door on the world.

Like this:

​#womenneedmore
The dumbest trending hashtag on the internet yet!
And it’s come into existence because of an advertising campaign coming from the house of Bianco Footwear and it’s premise is,

Equal pay is not enough,women need more!

First of all, unequal pay or the pay gap is an over used , beaten to death feminist talking point which is not taken seriously by anyone because every economist in the world rejects the conclusions of studies that are conducted around this , simply because it has been concluded via research that women make different choices than men when it comes to work life balance, deal with it.

Also, those that say there arnt enough women CEOs must acknowledge the fact that there arnt many women sewage cleaners and sanitation workers either…but i guess feminists want equality in all the glamorous, fun stuff.

And lastly, this ridiculous, feminist propaganda video suggests that it’s more expensive just being a woman so women deserve more pay than men! Imagine the outrage if this was a campaign for men!
Even so, this is twisted beyond words.

First of all, it is a CHOICE to wear expensive underwear, you can’t afford it? Don’t! There’s cheaper garments available too you know, that for your pocket, your employer is under no obligation to support your lifestyle choices!
And if you desperately want an expensive thong, how about you work overtime and EARN it ????
Stop begging for more lest people stop taking women seriously.

Recently, I have started inviting people to the Broken Radio Studios for brainstorming sessions. Broken Radio has always proudly proposed a different view of outlook towards most pressing issues. As a generalization, society is only aware of two prime base colors. Black and White. The masses are always surrounded by a clouded reality of right and wrong. The masses are extremely polarized. Either they would find an action right and endorse it or they would brand an action incorrect and shun it. Most of the intellectuals fail to acknowledge an important concept, which is also cherished by universe –

Right and Wrong was never the protocol of the day. There are actions followed by consequences. Beyond the shades of right and wrong there’s a shade, we call it grey. The entire universe clad in dazzling lights and shimmering darkness is one complemented shade of Grey.

Now whenever Broken Radio comes up with a new conceptualized theory backed by strong reasoning, driven by a logical approach, rich with non-biased, true facts, we make sure that we introduce it to the select few and get approval after a thoughtful debate which doesn’t involve name calling and yelling. After the theory/concept is approved by our select panel of intellectuals, we then roll it out for the masses, undiluted.

Today we are going to talk about missing valor in men and overwhelming bravery in women.

A dear friend of mine and founder of Fight Club – Tyler Durden once said –

We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.

Tyler shared his views 18 years ago. We all agreed and gave him an overwhelming approval.

In the past 18 years, a lot has changed. Today Broken Radio would like to edit Tyler words to make it more suitable as per the modern times. We are positive Tyler would agree with us. We say –

We’re a generation of men constantly saved by women. We are saved by our mothers. We are shielded by our sisters. Our lovers help us dream. Our partners groom us to achieve. Our daughters love us and we hate ourselves. I’m wondering if we deserve any women.

To further elaborate let’s observe this small social interaction –

Hamsa, is a country head of a reputed Financial institution based in one of the richest countries. Hussain is also employed by the same institution. Hamsa is an extremely talented, goal-oriented, confident, successful yet loving female. Everyone passively desire her. Some mask it as an admiration, others as love, few as lust too but in the end every man wants her. Hamsa is a kind-hearted woman and she wants to help people like every other decent human being. Hamsa is also an extremely confident person with no self-esteem issues. She toiled hard, fought corporate wars and emerged a winner.

But, (as we all know, there is always a but lurking around), like every other woman, Hamsa also has a need to love, to be loved, to talk, to be spoken to, to be heard. Karen is Hamsa’s best friend. Karen is a wonderful woman. I am in love with Karen and I know that I know her better than anyone else. Karen is a great listener. Karen loves Hamsa and tries to fulfil her every emotional need. That is what friends do. They take care of your emotional needs but in the end, Karen is a woman. She is not a man. We are technically wired to spend the most passionate moments of our lives with the opposite sex. (Homosexuals, you are another blog, another day, today just go away.)

Hussain is an attractive person. I highly doubt his sincerity towards his work but Hamsa always praises it. So, due to lack of proper evidence, let’s agree that Hussain is also hard-working. Let’s just add a fucking fake badge on his tainted uniform. Anyways Hamsa, due to lack of better, deserving men decides to go out on a dinner date with Hussain after he pesters her for multiple months.

Here’s what happens –

(Waiter approaches Hussain)

Waiter: May I get the order?

(Hussain directs the waiter towards Hamsa.)

Hamsa: I would take a meze, rich in white cheese and sliced melon. Please make sure that you do not use hot pepper paste. Stash the walnuts towards the sides and the yogurt should not be more than 6 hours old. Bring an Arak now and one followed after the meal. That would be it.

Waiter: Thanks ma’am.

(Waiter looks at the spineless guy.)

What would you like to order sir?

(Hussain is sweating like a pig. His legs are shaking badly. A tiny drop of his stinking sweat rolls down from his forehead, along his crooked nose, bounces on his twisted lower lip and drops into his glass of water. Hussain picks his glass of water and drinks it in one large sip.)

Hussain: I would take a Butter Naan with Afghani Chicken.

The waiter walks away.

It’s been three years since that night. Hamsa heard all his unbelievable stories. Hamsa believed in all of them. Yesterday, he told a rather believable story and Hamsa brushed it off in disbelief.

Karen, love of my life, told me that Hussain confessed being married. Seems like Hussain had a memory issue. All the three years he exploited Hamsa’s innocence, tainted her soul, crushed her spirits, lied, cheated, he never remembered that he was married. Today he wishes to leave his job and go back to his wife. Hussain got some terrible memory issues.

Ideally our society doesn’t endorse views of revenge, hatred, aggression. Ironically, we are brave men who wage war on an annual basis. We indulge in hi-tech war equipment and very bravely use our chip powered drones and kill innocent people. That’s an extremely difficult act of bravery. Flying battery powered weapons is the new art of war.

People lost their bravery when Vikings vanished from the planet. The last recorded brave men were the Vikings. They went to wage war to go to Walhalla. They went to war, either to die or to kill. In both the cases an eternal fulfilling experience of soul. Now people find such thoughts crazy. What I find crazy is few snipers calling themselves patriots killing innocent people in the name of country and the country would then proudly honor them as great warriors. I guess that’s where Broken Radio and the world have an objective disagreement of philosophy.

Now Hamsa is devastated and so is Karen. I am outraged. I do not like my sister and my lover upset because of a spineless, coward, lying, piece of shit. I either like someone or I hate them. If I have enough valid reasons to hate someone, that person often lands in knee-deep trouble. So, Hussain is done for this life.

There were days in the past, KGB agents used to call Moscow for help. Mostly Moscow would not help. Spies need to deal with their shit, on their own. Moscow would mostly say –

“Moscow is silent.”

Today morning, I called Moscow. Moscow wasn’t silent. Moscow is outraged. Hussain needs to pay. Moscow wants justice for sister Hamsa. Few clicks on a laptop, in a cyber cell by a truth activist is what it takes to disable someone’s life permanently. I feel no sympathy for Hussain. Cowards have no place in a just world. Broken Radio is fighting for a just world. Few sacrifices are needed, few extreme examples need to be fed.

I just wanted to advise Sister Hamsa, (hope she won’t consider it meddling) –

Like this:

When I met you, I knew, I would never have to listen to Rocket Man again. but I guess no one knows anything. I am again sitting with an empty bottle and listening to it. I guess that completes the loop. The strange part about us is we never say, yet we always say it. I have no clue why are we doing this pointless activity. I would never say it. It’s disrespectful. You, even if you want to, cannot. I just hope you realize this is for you. And it has always been you. All the twists and turns led me to you because you are the one.

The irony is everyone else knows it but no one would ever say.

Anyways not everything can be said. I wish words were so powerful but they aren’t. There is also a language beyond words, I guess, I have communicated using that, enough. I just want you to know. It’s always good to know. But don’t tell anyone. Not even me.

And here’s what Hank asked me to tell you –

Dear Karen,

If you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me.

You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this, this is the hardest thing I ever had to write.

There is no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it, I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make it was a perfect storm, she said one thing, I said another and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut that she might be the one. She’s completely nuts in a way that makes me smile, highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you Karen.

That’s the good news. The bad news is that I don’t know how to be with you right now, and that scares the shit out of me. Because if I am not with you right now I have this feeling we’ll get lost out there. It’s a big bad world full or twist and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment. The moment that could have changed everything.

I don’t know what’s going on with us and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn you smell good, like home and you make excellent coffee that’s got to count for something, right? Call me!

Like this:

** The views expressed in this article are of an Individual. Government doesn’t endorse such views. They do not mind people being slaves. BrokenRadio does **

There’s blood in the streets, it’s up to my ankles
She came
Blood in the streets, it’s up to my knee
She came
Blood in the streets in the towns around
She came
Blood on the rise, it’s following me
Think about the break of day

She came and then she drove away Sunlight in her hair

–Peace Frog

Good Morning Planet

Rain does push the morning bio-alarm away. I always make sure to wake up early. Early bird catches the worm. In a filth-rich society, someone got to give up on grabbing desserts and take the pains to catch the worm. I don’t mind menial jobs. Work is worship. So, I catch worms.

Today morning I was interacting with a fan, (I personally prefer the term friend) who belongs from Kashmir. She had the pleasure of witnessing years of tyranny. I wish, I too was that lucky. Witnessing political and social tyranny, first-hand is an extremely enriching and soulful experience. She is blessed. God bless her soul. God bless her family. She was sharing her agony about her little brothers, who were badly hurt by a state backed oppressive force.

I guess all of us have agreed on my views, that a self-aware state/society/system which stems out and breeds on a principle of self-indulgence cannot work selflessly for the self-interest of the people. To elaborate –

Your Government is a failed state.

Your Society is a failed organization.

Your Beliefs are a failed system.

Your Armed Forces are failed assailants.

Your Media is a failed tube.

Your Soul is a failed institution.

You are a failed experiment.

My Radio, though it’s Broken, still airs.

Now in this failed mindset, we end up agreeing to failed concepts.

“Get a job. Go to work. Get married. Have children. Follow fashion. Act normal. Walk on the pavement. Watch TV. Obey the law. Save for your old age. Now repeat after me: I am free.”

We are in a state of constant surveillance. This surveillance is then used to create propaganda that is wrapped in religious content and then weaponized for brutality against humanity to fulfill Political agendas. The Prime goal of the campaign being:

“Seasoned Subjugation of Mind!”

This is the ultimate tag-line endorsed by your governments across the blue dot, floating in the space, in an infinite universe, brightly lit with lights and fairly rich with darkness.

We are in a state of encouraged vigilantism. This vigilantism is then used to induce terror propaganda which is wrapped in fear and then weaponized for mass slavery to fulfill corporate agendas. The Prime goal of the campaign being:

“Autonomous Subjugation of the Mind”

In an era, where consciousness should be floating around, we the people walk proudly, in a state of deep sleep which is pleasantly masked as waking dream that is perceived as reality due to flawed sense of reasoning.

But the people wake up. They always do. Today or tomorrow or in the centuries later to come, an awakening is inevitable. Today I woke up late but when I looked out the window, I saw an awakened mass. After a very long span of time, I witnessed rising.

Ayat from Kashmir demanded freedom and I would help her attain it.

We the people demand Free the people.

Freedom of Mind. Freedom of Soul. Freedom of thoughts. Freedom to choose goals.

And it’s so easy to be free. It’s just a two-step process.

We pick up a pen.

And we keep writing about the truth, just the truth, only the truth.

No one needs to get out of their homes. No one needs to flood the streets. No one needs to yell. No one needs to scream. Hell, you do not even need to talk.

Just Write! Write about the injustice you witness! Write about the brutality you experience! Write about the extents of exploitation you are subjugated to!

Write about the Truth!

We the people will flood the streets with letters addressed to the establishment. The drains would clog with molten pulp and would burn the unjust system. We the people would ignite a cleansing fire and burn this crippled disassociated oppressive system and We the people then would Free the people.

A pen and a paper is the only medicine crafted for this epidemic!

The first revolution is the revolution of the mind wherein you agree to at least the concept of tolerance for a different point of view. A view which you have never been shown before. A view which every great or evil person agreed to.

Be it murderer Escobar or the benevolent Teresa.

Writing letters is the only real art of war!

To achieve a permanent state of peace, let’s give way to a temporary state of unrest.

Let’s get out of our cozy couch and get in the library. Let’s write slogans. No stones needed. No bullets required. Just a pen and a brave heart.

A lot has been said about men & their power dynamics in the corporate world. Power is corrupting & it takes a man of great character & a higher moral threshold than most to not exploit people when you’re in a position to. But why do we obsess over the exploiter & forget to address the people on the receiving end? I know when it comes to sexual exploitation, men & women are almost equally at risk for becoming the object of some corporate psychopath’s unwanted affection but because I am a woman, I want to TALK TO THE WOMEN.

Let’s start with the word ‘compromise‘. I am not sure why is the seeking of & complying with demands for sexual favors termed as a compromise in most scenarios. Is it the man who is lowering his standards of taste in women when he chooses to share himself with a woman suffering with such low self – esteem or is it the woman who is ‘compromising’ by letting herself get abused in this way by a man who thinks nothing more of her than a sexual conquest? I believe, in popular culture, the word is used to describe a corporate version of prostitution. That’s right woman. You’re not compromising, you’re prostituting. Think about it. A prostitute sleeps with men in an arrangement devoid of mutual respect & affection in exchange for money. She sleeps with the occasional politician or policeman for no charge but in exchange for survival & continuing to function in her line of business. And lastly, sometimes, she sleeps with the pimps so they help her raise in the ranks. Now do me a favor & replace the words prostitute with ‘female employee’ & the words depicting men in positions of power with ‘boss’. That’s you. It’s the ONLY difference. A twist of words. I hope this makes you realize the FACT that this is no compromise. Do not make the folly of letting yourself off that easy.

Now, let’s explore the reasons for this kind of a dehumanizing arrangement. The reasons for the exploitative asshole are simple. He is a man who obviously suffers from deep rooted self-esteem issues, is egoistic, a tad bit sadistic & feels that the only way he can make himself feel powerful is by rendering others powerless. What about you? Well, you suffer from low self – esteem too & lack confidence in your capabilities & feel this is the only way you can rise the corporate ladder. Either that or you’re just plain lazy. You know it’s the easy way out. Some of you would say you have personal reasons for not wanting to leave the organization because you are very ‘majboor’ (destitute). ‘Majboor’ for what? Think. What’s the worst thing that you would probably have to do if you leave this job? Join another organization? Work from scratch in a new place? You can’t find another company that’s an equally good paymaster?

While I was working with Intelenet Global Services, one of my fist trysts with the corporate world, I did experience a situation like this first hand. The Operations Manager for the Healthcare process I was an associate in was notorious for his ‘deep interest in female employees’. He was a God in his own mind, at least that’s the feeling you got if you stole a glance across the busy operations floor over to the area divided by glass walls, the place where he seated himself, legs spread wide apart, a sly grin on his face. There was something about him that made your stomach churn. You do get awestruck with these people. I for one, was in awe of his sheer audacity. He had turned around a lot of careers thanks to his ‘feedback’ & ‘grooming sessions’. I was 22, fresh out of my first job, had heard a few corporate horror stories but never imagined something like this could be soon coming my way. My TL, walked up to me one day as I was busy chattering away to glory with one of my friends. I stashed away my bag of chips as we were not allowed to eat on the ops floor, but who cared about that! I only cared about the torturous monologue my TL would subject me to if caught. Usually, he would start his infamous monologue on floor hygiene as I would be wiping my hands but this time he had a grin on his face. A grin of amusement, almost. ‘A**r has called you. He wants to speak with you, just walk over to his bay”. I wasn’t sure what this was about. Did I process a claim incorrectly? Has he received a complaint? Have I screwed compliance? Why is my TL not talking to me about this? Why is he not accompanying me? I was very nervous as I approached the man I had previously only said ‘Hi’ to on occasion.

“You look nervous…relax, here, have a seat”

I parked myself in one of the chairs lying around his desk & thus began one of the most confusing conversations I had ever imagined to be a part of.

“Isha, I am not going to beat around the bush! I really like young talent & my vision for this process is to take it to another level altogether. I want to see everyone do well. Especially women under my wing. I feel women must be provided equal opportunities of growth as men are you with me on that?”

Who wouldn’t be? I nodded my head, grateful, that it’s not compliance, wanting very much to head back to my bag of chips.

“I see great potential in you in fact, I give your example in huddles because you come across as someone with great leadership potential”

Oh okay, I thought. Kept nodding. I also think very highly of myself, thank you.

“So what I have decided for you is, I am going to invest some time in you & groom you personally & believe me Isha, before you even realize what’s happening, you would be leading this team”

I had to intervene at this point to bring forth a crucial concern, “Sir I am not a graduate, I couldn’t complete my graduation for personal reasons but I am pursuing it, so I think that’s going to be a problem”

“Don’t be silly Isha! You think I can’t handle something as basic as this? It’s irrelevant. My only concern is , office hours are too busy. I can’t hamper business by pulling out people when they should be generating numbers, but at the same time, I do want to groom you, so tell me what can we do about this”

The ball was left in my court. “I can extend my shift for an hour sir, that’s not a problem”

Apparently, that’s not the answer he was looking for. “I am strictly against employees extending their working hours, I mean you have a family, you have a life too! Do you think we can meet outside of work at some point”

I thought about it, but it seemed too boring. I mean I was desperate for this to end right there, the mere thought of this conversation lingering on with this uninteresting man was too much for young me to bear. I thought about all the fun things I could do instead of spending time with him & said no.

“Sir I meet my parents every weekend, I make it a point to visit my family so that would not be possible”

He was quite for the longest two minutes of each of our lives.

Finally, he regained composure, “To build careers, you have to compromise your time. I have big dreams for you, but am disappointed to hear this lack of drive in your tone. Don’t you want to grow? Tell me, when are we meeting?”

“Sir, I will have to think about this, I mean I am really thankful to you for being so considerate however, I wasn’t prepared for this at all. I was under the impression that you are going to ask me to leave, TBH, because of something I did wrong from a processing perspective. Allow me some time please”

And so he did, with a deadline. My friend was shifting in her seat uncomfortably & my TL grinning stupidly when I waltzed back to my seat. “Glad that’s over” There’s always a ‘mummy friend’ in any team you’re a part of who wants to know about you’re day, you’re ups and downs and be there for you even if you don’t want it. But in this case I did, because I couldn’t wrap my head around why this chap was so interested in seeing me grow…“It’s not like he’s my dad” I joked.: Papa hi ban gaya tha yaar! Full on daddygiri! I want to see you grow ye hai vo hai kya hai bhai???

My mummy friend broke it down to me. And I was FURIOUS. “Aukaat dekhi hai apni?”Those were my first words. “He’s decided to play doll with the wrong person. Abhi HR main e-mail karti hun” Mummy friend asked me not to because he had not directly implied ANYTHING. We were assuming this conversation for what it was because we knew what kind of a man he is. There has never been a complaint against him in the past & he hasn’t said anything that can’t be twisted one way or the other. You will become the laughing stock or the troublemaker if you press it too much & will have to quit your job. So it was decided that I was going to ignore this guy completely. Not that I noticed him much or gave him much attention in the first place, but I was supposed to ignore his advances. He tried playing nice.He sent me a birthday wish which I ignored. And that pissed him off. By that time, it had been almost a month that he was trying to display how easy he could make my life at work by instructing my TL to give me special, unwarranted exceptions etc.Now, he wanted to demonstrate the opposite. When sweet dreams of a bright future weren’t working, he decided the threats of a nightmare would.

Suddenly I couldn’t be a minute late, I couldn’t extend my break by 5 minutes, I had to extend my shift even though I hate doing that, so on & so forth. So what, I thought, this is any day better than having to sleep with that clown. You have to weigh your choices & prioritize. Of course, this had to escalate because now his ego was bruised & his groin was bearing the brunt for it. Suddenly, I was summoned by my TL to tell me that there was a compliance issue in a claim I had processed. Now, I must admit, it was processed incorrectly. I mean, when you’re taking a hundred calls a day or processing hundreds of data file a day, just how difficult is it for somebody to pick out that bunch of calls that could potentially destroy your career in that company? Not very difficult. He did just that. I knew what this was. Now it was about survival & believe me, I was very ‘majboor’.

So what did I decide to do? Play right in his hands???

Remember I said, in a process where you’re taking a hundred calls a day, it’s not that difficult to find that ONE call that can destroy your career in that company? Isn’t that true if you turn the tables? I mean, I don’t know if you notice this, but your bosses DO NOT own the company. Your potential molester is probably a small pawn in the bigger game himself and just as vulnerable as you. A TL, Manager, Director is actually just a dog who wags his tail around the top honchos of the organization. And to them, business is very dear. And in a business where you’re managing 10 – 12 different teams comprising of 10 – 25 people each, how difficult is it to find that ONE malpractice, that can ruin HIS career in the company? How difficult is it to find that ONE person, who holds a grudge against him? Not very. That’s what I did. Cigna was a team that was very dear to his heart. Because Cigna drove numbers & we all knew how. It took just ONE E-mail with evidence of screenshots backed by 5 other people testifying against him to shatter his ambitions of playing God. Suddenly, there were quality checks run on Cigna. Suddenly there were scrutiny sessions with the team. Suddenly, he had to resign.

Ladies, God helps those who help themselves. It wouldn’t be a cliche if it weren’t true.

Weigh your options & prioritize. And believe in yourself. You are worth more than a thousand male egos put together. Be a WOMAN in a man’s world.

Like this:

For those of you who don’t know who he is, Pahlaj Nihlani is the current Chairman for the Central Board Of Film Certification in India. This man gets to decide what we can watch, as a country, when we head to the movies or nestle in our lazy chairs at home in front of the idiot box. And he’s serious about his sanskaars. So serious that in a country that’s 1.2 billion strong & counting, where child marriage is still a reality, where children are raped irrespective of their gender, caste or social strata, he feels we’re not ready to hear the word ‘Intercourse’ on screen yet! The word that I last read 14 years ago in my biology textbook while preparing for my class 10 boards & which got replaced by the word ‘fuck’ as soon as I started college! Thta’s the word he has a problem with & wants beeped out in the new SRK movie, ‘When Harry Met Sejal’. Besides, Mr Nihlani has been a producer in the Indian film industry many moons ago & we all know…that his movies never had the word intercourse in them! Because I have just had breakfast, I do not wish to think about Nihlani’s movies or their sexual innuendos or even the double meaning lyrics because of obvious reasons.

And he not only has a problem with ‘intercourse’, he seems to have a problem with anything that is inherently ‘female’. Case in point, when he banned the movie ‘Lipstick Under My Burkha’ from being screened in India, here’s what was told to the film maker of this movie as to why the movie was banned

“The story is lady oriented, their fantasy about life. There are continuous sexual scenes, abusive words, audio pornography and a bit sensitive touch about one particular section of society, hence film refused.”

Obviously, that remark is ridden with more problems than just poor sentence construction & grammar! Anyhow, the makers of the movie went on to get the movie cleared for a theatrical release in India after the country’s Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT), decided that the film can be issued an adult certificate, equivalent to an NC-17 rating.

Even before this fiasco, he tried meddling with director/producer Anurag Kashyap, while his movie ‘Udtaa Punjab’ was due to release but fortunately or unfortunately, that controversial & fantastic movie got accidentally ‘leaked’ on you tube, much to the delight of the nation & Mr Nihlani went biting the curb then too!

By this point, I can understand how he would have been feeling powerless & as we all know, desperate times lead to desperate measures & so, in a bid to redeem himself, Mr Nihlani prepared a strategy.

Aim low. Target a word rather than an entire movie. That way, movie makers would give in without much of a fight & Nihlani would get to feel powerful. A little.

Chose an SRK movie for maximum impact.

It was all going according to the ‘plan’ when suddenly, he was asked a question by a reporter from a New channel called Mirror Now as to why did he have an objection to the word intercourse? This is what he had to say

“You take voting from the public and I will clear the word (intercourse) on the promo and the film also. I want 1 lakh votes and I want to see that India has changed and Indian families want their 12-year-old kids to understand the meaning of this word (intercourse).”

Now, Mirror Now’s Prime Time debates are hosted by an extremely rational, level headed journalist who hasn’t lost touch of reality or her sense of humour & so, in the right spirit, she, Faye D’Souza, accepted the challenge thrown by Mr Not-So-Smart & was able to gather much more than just 1 lakh votes. And I must say, she didn’t need to put in much of an effort either. Mr Nihlani, are you insane? What did I say our country’s population was? More than 1.2 billion. How many votes did you ask for? 1 lakh. All we had to do was send out a tweet to SRK’s 25 million followers on twitter and the ones who were stuck in traffic at that hour were able to accomplish the task!

What ensued was a laughter riot. It’s alright to fail now & then, but you can easily & gracefully redeem yourself by accepting defeat & stating that the people have spoken & I respect the verdict. But NOOOOOOO It’s a fool we’re talking about here. He has mastered the art of humiliating himself in full public view by now & so not only did he refuse to answer any question posed to him by a rather polite journalist who cornered him in elevator, but he even ended up looking like a nincompoop on National Televion!

You’ve brought the debate from “Whether Nihlani deserves to be Censor Board Cheif” to “Whether there’s a need for a Censor Board at all” Mr Nihlani. That, to me, is your one & only achievement. Hang tight to that.

I was saving my energy this entire day because I wanted to talk about GST. It’s outrageous and it marks the beginning of an Economist Fascism in a country which is already plagued with Religious Fascism. The way Modi is selling the idea of a midnight session, comparing it to freedom, well, that’s just contrary to what is really going to happen. Nehru in 1947 said,

“At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awaken to life and freedom.”

I, in 2017 say, “At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to witness death and captivity.”

For those who know me and those who do not, I am an emotional writer. Yes, a writer needs to be rational and logical but if one is stating facts, then just facts matter. Emotions make all of us human. As much as I wish to talk about GST, I am going to hold myself back, few more hours, cause I am overwhelmed with some great emotions of appreciation. Till the time, I do not let these emotions out, I might not be able to write an impactful article about GST. So, here it is, my flood of emotions to drown you all.

I have experienced unbelievable reactions on my previous articles about American Express. My inbox is flooded both with appreciation and hatred. I like all sort of reactions. A positive reaction means, I left an impact. A negative reaction means, I left an everlasting impression. So I like both of them. I would strongly urge both my followers and haters to read an article, “Are you a Chimp?” before they start commenting or sharing any of my content. It saddens me deeply that people are twisting the facts I say, as per their own convenience and using it for their own personal corporate propaganda.

I spent 5 years working for American Express and I was in a heaven for at least 3 of it. The heaven is called “Cyber Hub”. Today I am going to talk about real leaders and exemplary conduct. A duo whom I admire immensely – Gaurav & Sue. Let me share a one liner for both of them, so that you guys have a little idea about their personality –

Gaurav – Hard Headed, No tolerance for bullshit.

Sue – Mother, Sister, Friend, Counselor and a Go Getter.

I guess this kind of sums up their great personalities in as few words as possible. Unfortunately I do not have the vocabulary to truly describe how amazing leaders were they. Someday once I become a better writer, I might be able to. But today I do not possess the required vocabulary.

Gaurav and Sue, together with their joint efforts not just saved a sinking Titanic but also took it for a spin around the world. A process which was taking it’s dying breath, whose pulse was 30-40, not only did these Corporate gods revive it but also turned it into a sprinting BOLT. In less than 12 months the pulse of that dead beat rose to 80-90 and remained static. It was a remarkable corporate achievement and the entire AMEX family was gaga. They groomed a fleet of corporate leaders who are still making waves througout MNC’s. Let me name a few – Lalit, Shruti, Deepika, Nivedita, Jayshree, Bipasha, Amit, and it would be midnight if I mention all the names.

I hate corporations because they rob you off your life. But working with Sue n Gaurav never felt like working in a corporation. It felt like being at home. They were not bosses. They were guardians. And we were their only children. Half of the time Sue was busy resolving people’s personal issues. She realized the importance of human connect. She knew people perform better when they are happy and feel looked after.

Gaurav always came across as a number driven guy and he might deny my claims that he loved us, like his own, but that’s just how he is. He won’t shower you with love but he would make you find love, in your work, by using as little words as possible. He was and is a man of few words.

And it’s not that everyday was Eid. We had our differences. We used to yell at each other all the time. Mostly the yelling was done by us. You remember those day when you think your parents hate you and love your siblings more. Well those were like a monthly activity but what was different in Cyber hub and missing in India Campus, was freedom. We never thought twice before speaking our minds. We were not judged but were heard.

What bosses everywhere lack is active listening. They just want to talk. They do not want to listen. Well, Gaurav and Sue were different. And once again, we all had our differences but we were still a family because they treated us in that manner. We were not corporate slaves.

I wish, I could write better so that I can repay their mortal debt of the time and efforts they put in grooming and mentoring me and shaping a headless chicken like me, in whatever little human, I have become. I guess someday I might. Today I would just say thank you Gaurav and love you SUE.

Stay tuned in for more about corporations, religion, politics, love and whatever my deluded head comes up with. And subscribe to my blog. It won’t hurt and It’s free. I would earn a few bucks from ads and the pen would have a little ink. A writer does need fancy pens. What else would be left in this world, if you let the ink dry…

Enjoy your evening and remember today midnight marks a beginning of a new era. An era of financial unrest, political autocracy and religious fascism. We the people can still unite and topple this government way, before 2019. I alone cannot. Are you with me?

“Admiration and familiarity are strangers”

George Sand

Human beings are strange creatures. The wise among us have said million things & we hear them, admire them, hand them down to coming generations but obviously fail to understand them. This is what leads to a lot of lessons needing to repeat themselves again & again. For instance, they taught us all in childhood

“Familiarity breeds contempt”

We heard it, but did we understand it? Absolutely not. If that would have been the case, the institution of marriage would have been long dissolved. For that matter, the concept of family would have been outlawed. Why you ask? What is it like when couples start dating initially & then as time goes by they decide that they simply cannot live without each other & then when they do start co-inhabiting, they begin driving each other mad. No matter what you do, nobody can deny the fact that the most ignored, taken for granted people in our lives are also the ones we claim to love the most! That’s because they’re always around.Try this. Impose a curfew for a few days in a city and disallow people from assembling or even living together. Suddenly, everyone would start longing human company, the very same people whose sole desire in life is a little ‘me time’. A few free spirited junkies may even be happy for a while but then ultimately, would long company. That’s why even people who do not have any human friends to hang out with in the end, end up surrounding themselves with cats! Or lizards, depending on what they’re into! Which brings me to another quote we heard a long time ago but never really understood

“Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for”

Bob Marley

The human need to socialize & co-habituate is so deep, that we’re ready to bear the systematic murder of our feelings, just so we can be around someone, who also wants to be around us. But we are also quick to start detesting that individual the moment we’re with them because we start taking them for granted! We are complicated indeed. We display signs of cosmic abandonment. We all suffer from daddy issues. That’s right, among the theories presented to the world by scientists & religious nut jobs, the one theory that makes sense to me is the theory of Cosmic Abandonment by Mark Passio.

“We hate each other, but we’d rather be miserable together.”

Isha .V. Singh

That’s how I see it. And Mark Passio describes perfectly & reasonably as best he can.It’s a good presentation to invest your time in. Mark goes on to describe what he, & ancient Sumerians, believe to be the origin of the human race,& goes on the to provide an explanatory synthesis of the current human condition.

We are the results of a failed experiment & the ‘Gods’ who created us, our ‘fathers’ if you may, have long abandoned us. That’s why we are so screwed. Most of us do not even know what our suffering really is, we’re that miserable.

That’s where religion comes into the picture. According to a poll conducted in a country that’s touted as the leader of the free world, the United States Of America, more than 60% of American answered in the affirmative when asked if “religion solved all of my problems”. We’re so doomed, that we believe in a bunch of unsubstantial fairy tales just so that we can cling to the comforting hope of a messiah who would ultimately come & rescue us! We’re so desperate that we not only await the savior but have concocted his adversary too! And to make matters interesting, we fight with each other in an attempt to disprove the authenticity of the fable whose story line doesn’t coincide with ours! You see, there’s a lot of pent up resentment, anger & hatred within us & we’re constantly seeking ways to channelize these negative emotions lest they destroy our own selves. This is also why we are so prone to violence & being violent.

“It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence”

Mahatma Gandhi

This quote comes from the man touted as the most non-violent man in the history of mankind! We sell non-violence in his name! And yet, even he couldn’t resist acknowledging the human need for violence.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is, we’re screwed. We all are. And we’re all in it together. So, let’s be kind to each other. However difficult it may be to love one another, it’s always possible to be kind simply because we understand what it’s like to be miserable.

“Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not”

Samuel Johnson

So let’s stop the song & dance about love & switch our energies on being kind instead.

May the weekend rejuvenate your spirit & prepare you for the drudgery next week!

What do you wake up to each morning? Your mobile phone, a newspaper, the television, a cup of coffee, an urgent text from your boss? You know what I woke up to this morning? FAN MAIL! And what makes it even better is the fact that it is for one the most CONTROVERSIAL writers in my fleet – Nishant Nishit! Now, by definition, the word CONTROVERSIAL means

“giving rise or likely to give rise to controversy or public disagreement”

So in that sense, my word selection to describe this individual is absolutely legitimate. Looking at the chaos he spins on social media everyday supports my claim. People go to the extent of using his own social media propaganda hashtags against him just to prove their point! I don’t know if you have your thinking glasses on but I do, & I can make out that that’s epic shit! Love him or hate him, you cannot ignore him. It’s a cliche, I know, but like every cliche, there’s an element of truth here too! Anyway, this isn’t the first time somebody has sent in an e-mail or message dedicated to Nik’s awesomeness but this is the first time I felt it is ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY appropriate to the tee, if you have to describe his thoughts, his journey & HIM! And why not, it’s been penned by John Lennon. So without further ado, allow me to share a message we recieved from UjalaWani from the paradise on earth, Kashmir.

Dear Nishant,

I’m Ujala Wani & I am from Kashmir. I do not know how to express my adoration for someone I have never met in person but whose soul I feel connected to through his words. I wake up each morning & the first thing I do is, check your blog to see what you have written today! I am no writer, but I do sing & I feel the following song just has to be dedicated to you. It’s a hard hitting number by John Lennon who I know you also admire, just as all epic people do. And here’s a picture of me, rehearsing for the day I would play it in person for you.

‘BrokenRadio’ has added the watermark to prevent misuse.

“Working Class Hero”

As soon as you’re born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all

‘Til the pain is so big you feel nothing at all

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool

‘Til you’re so fucking crazy you can’t follow their rules

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they’ve tortured and scared you for 20 odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can’t really function, you’re so full of fear

A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion, and sex, and T.V.
And you think you’re so clever and classless and free
But you’re still fucking peasants as far as I can see

A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be

There’s room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill

A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

Hope you like my dedication & hope you write back! Even if you don’t, hope you continue your war of words. You’re my hero!

Love & luck

Ujala

Hmmm, I don’t know about Nishant but if someone would write a letter like that for me, I wouldn’t just be reading that John Lennon song, I’d be dancing to it! But it’s for Nishant, he’s the man of the hour, so I will urge him to dance to it instead & let me thank not only Ujala, but all those people who believe in ‘Broken Radio’, who believe in Nishant, who believe that the truth is irreplaceable even if it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Thank you for reading, supporting, following! One such letter makes the hate spewed on social media dissolve like salt in water! And a word to Nishant, you’re not that controversial after all eh? People have started agreeing with you…!

O ye who believe! When the call is proclaimed to prayer on Friday (the Day of Assembly, yawm al-jumu’ah), hasten earnestly to the Remembrance of Allah, and leave off business (and traffic): That is best for you if ye but knew!
And when the Prayer is finished, then may ye disperse through the land, and seek of the Bounty of Allah: and celebrate the Praises of Allah often (and without stint): that ye may prosper.

— Qur’an, sura 62 (Al-Jumua), āyāt 9-10

In Hadith, The Prophet said, “On every Friday the angels take their stand at every gate of the mosques to write the names of the people chronologically (i.e. according to the time of their arrival for the Friday prayer) and when the Imam sits (on the pulpit) they fold up their scrolls and get ready to listen to the sermon.”

Even the schools I studied in and the corporations I worked with, cherish Fridays, in some manner or other. In schools we were given a break from the same boring, dull, uniform and we could look shiny and dazzling. In corporations too, there is a fresh vibe and no dress code. So Friday is a fun day.

“You talk a lot of shit from your ugly and shitty mouth about a lot of people. You have lately started doing same about our PM Mr. Modi.

Do you do the same for your mother as well ?

Stop being a dickhead MOFO.#WANNABEARTIST#FAKELYF # FUCKYOURSELF”

I was extremely delighted to hear from him. We spent some good times together in the past. Some of you might think I am being sarcastic and there is no plausible reason for me to be happy after reading Rahul’s comment. Well that’s untrue. Among all the love he showered me with, he used a hashtag #fakelyf, that’s a campaign BrokenRadio ran two months ago on FB. It gives me immense pleasure to see that my work has not been forgotten. Thanks for bringing a smile on my face Rahul. And let’s catch up someday. Our political differences should not deter us from socializing. I always found you cool. And I like cool people.

When we talk about cool people, well, ignoring Jack sparrow would be a hate crime. Jack sparrow, the wisest sailor, is the coolest of em all. During the month of Ramadan, I promised my dear friend and author, Khadija Fatima – You Think You know, that I would write a great piece about Jack sparrow. (I oversold my writing in order to impress her, wink, wink, wink. No mortal can ever pen down the greatness of Jack in words.) Her hair recently went salty and peppery, which I absolutely love and I also owe her Eidi, so, here it is, a small tribute to the great, Jack Sparrow. (oops, there got to be a captain somewhere). My bad folks, it has always been Capt. Jack Sparrow.

Jack Sparrow : Why is the Rum gone? (murmurs to himself) Where is that girl with those splendid locks, you spoke about.

Me : She crossed the sea Capt. She is in Dubai, the land of gold.

(Jack looks at Kate’s pic, stares, continues staring)

Me : What happened Capt?

Jack Sparrow : You need to find yourself a girl, mate. Or perhaps the reason you write three blogs a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You’re not a eunuch are you?

Me: Let’s not get personal Sir. We are here to talk about you not me.

Jack Sparrow: You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?

Me: Not that I can remember, Captain.

Jack Sparrow: Do us a favor… I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid.

(Jack turns around and looks at the studio audiences and yells)

Jack Sparrow: Shoot him and cut out his tongue, then shoot his tongue! And trim that scraggly beard! (finger pointing towards me) I have no sympathy for any of you feculent maggots and no more patience to pretend otherwise. Gentlemen, I wash my hands of this weirdness.

Me: But I am a fan.

Jack Sparrow: Good man. Weigh anchor, all hands! Prepare to make sail!

[takes out compass]

We going to sail to the land of gold. I need to meet this lovely lass they call Kate, the one who has splendid locks. You can come along but, Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away you’ll lose it for certain and Gentlemen, m’lady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost met Captain Jack Sparrow ! [escapes]

You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude toward what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you.

– Brian Tracy

What happens when you look into a mirror? You see your own reflection. If something seems amiss, you take care of it, like readjust your tie, spruce up your hair, straighten your crease & go about your day. But what happens when a mirror is shown to you? Somebody walks up to you when you’re least expecting it & shows you exactly how ridiculous you really are, that can cause some involuntary jolts & thought-less reactions.

It started with veiled threats coming from a manager who warned Nishant that he could “Get into trouble” while claiming to be his well wisher. After an afternoon gone by of messages almost spamming my friend’s inbox, asking him to remove the ‘name’ , it went on to persuasion tactics applied over the telephone. Listen up Mr Manager, your bull shit worked while we were in that corporate steel cage not because you are some wise magician whose persuasion tactics are a force to be reckoned with, your feedback session was such a success mostly because nobody had a choice but to comply. OBEY. SUBMIT. AGREE. That’s not the case now. We’re allowed to report shit. We’re allowed to talk about things we see. Nobody can walk up to us say, hush up. Now, for the anonymous messages & the paid bot commentators falsely stating that the incidents highlighted are an exception, allow me to remind you of the time when a woman in Campus had filed an FIR against an American Express TL for sexual harassment & we were all asked to ‘un-tag’ ourselves from her Facebook post. I understand that you have to train yourselves to ignore what happens around you & protect yourself from reality but not us. In fact, ever since Nishant’s article has been published, there have been messages pouring in from people validating the very fact that not only is this the culture there, but also, their own experiences with regards to sexual approaches, innuendos & what not. But publishing hearsay is not our aim. Nishant simply wrote about what he has witnessed. WITNESSED. Not HEARD. We’ve heard a lot over the years & heard a lot more in the last two days. We don’t run on gossip. YOU DO.

Damage control can be more damaging to any situation. You end up validating the very fact that you want to falsify. Take my advise, stop trying to FIX THIS SHIT & fix the shit within you. Pledge never to try taking advantage of another individual & repent. That would be true damage control.

The answer to the first two questions is no one. But the answer to the last question is – 7.5 billion. This disparity is scary. Uttar Pradesh , is the most populous state in the Republic of India. It is home to the highest numbers of both Hindus and Muslims. By religion, the population in 2011 was Hindus 79.73%, Muslims 19.26%, Sikhs 0.32%, Christians 0.18%, Jains 0.11%, Buddhists 0.10%, and Others 0.30%. The literacy rate of the state at the 2011 census was 70%, which was below the national average of 74%.

Now Indians are not smart. We are talking about a set of people who uninstalled Snapdeal when the CEO of Snapchat called them poor. That’s the level of intellect Indians possess. Indians were ashamed of themselves since ages. Modi was quoted in a newspaper saying “Earlier you felt ashamed of being born Indian” and that his term in office is what has changed that perception. Twitter was outraged with PM’s remarks. The whole nation was. I wasn’t. I have dealt with foreign nationals through out my corporate slavery of 8 long years. And I am very well aware of how Indians are perceived throughout the globe. Indians are so uneducated that they have to be taught not to shit and pee in public. They have to be taught not to push people in metros. They need to be taught not to litter. They need to be taught not to pick nose in public. That’s how intelligent Indians are.

Modi was right when he passed this remark and he has done a good job teaching Indians few manners. I applaud him for that. But that could have been done by any of these money hungry, corporate endorsing, celebrities. A PM’s job is to run a country, not to teach fellow country men manners. But that was his strategy. He did not win an election. He won a popularity contest and he would not stop. He would continue fighting for his popularity like Kim Kardashian and the way teenage girls admire Kim, this illiterate country would continue loving PM Modi. He has paid media along his side.

Subhash Chandra is an Indian media moghul. He is chairman of Essel Group, an Indian conglomerate. He also got elected to the Upper House of Indian parliament from the Haryana state in Rajya Sabha election.

Essel group owns –

World is One News

Zee News

Zee Hindustan

Zee Entertainment Enterprises

Zee Media Corporation

Daily News and Analysis

Dish TV

Siti Cable

Zee Turner Limited

Intrex Trade Exchange Ltd

Cyquator Technologies Limited

Digital Media Convergence Limited

CornerShop Entertainment

Modi and Subhash have been close friends. Modi launched Subhash’s autobiography at 7, Race Course Road, New Delhi. Why would a PM do something like this? And how did he manage time? These are relevant questions. These are not baseless allegations. You better find the answers yourself. I am not here to hand it over to you. Tweet Modi and ask him, ”Isn’t it unethical to be friends with one of the major media baron?”

Anyways lets get back to his pet, CM Yogi. We have already established that U.P’s literacy rate is lower than that of the rest of India and Indians are born stupid. I am just saying what your PM says proudly. He believes in it too. Why shouldn’t he? We are watching paid media praising him and we assume he is praise worthy. Let me remind you of a truth which you seem to have forgotten because media no longer brings it up. This man is responsible for riots. He was denounced by the global community because of his hard lined religious approach and even was denied Visa to United States. The same country which proudly endorses him now because of a common goal – Kill Muslims. Don’t make too much of a noise. Kill them slowly and silently. Oh, my bad. They do not use the term kill. That’s bad. Neutralize the threat. That’s the popular term.

Now this rioting enthusiast has appointed his pet as the chief minister of a state which is stupider than an already stupid nation. This pet wears a costume the whole fucking time. That’s how tolerant he is. He never gets out of his costume. He thinks he is a religious rock star. No he isn’t. He is a lunatic. Religion breeds hatred. That’s the base of religion. All the world’s biggest documented tragedies including ancient conquests and modern wars are religiously motivated and politically masked. A person who wears a black gown throughout, yup, Orange is the new black. I have started hating orange cause now I think it’s just blood, diluted with sweat. This lunatic who wants to create a Hindu nation is fueling hatred in people and letting his so called army of goons – Hindu Sena, run around like wild monkeys, killing innocent people in the name of animals.

I am a born Hindu and I eat beef. I enjoy eating beef. I would eat beef everyday. Also on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And I want you lunatics to mess with me. Stop killing little children in the name of your gods. Come mess with me. I am going to a slaughter house this very evening, located in Ghaziabad, to buy beef and then I would head home and cook it and eat delicious beef. My doors would be open waiting for your goons. Many few people realize the power of truth. If you are not a bastard Mr Yogi, if you drank your mother’s milk and not some vagabond animal’s piss, I welcome you for a nice meal. (This is the languagae they communicate in) Let’s see who has power. A bought position handed to you while you run around like puppet or a True voice of an honest Indian. Tonight let’s see whether the revolution would be televised or not. Tonight you should pay for killing Junaid. You killed him and PM Modi conceived it in one of his Jet lags. Hope to see you and your army of goons in the next few hours.

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by American Express

In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you selfies of Modi
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
on reports from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so god damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally screwed
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

Gilbert “Gil” Scott-Heron (April 1, 1949 – May 27, 2011) was an American soul and jazz poet, musician, and author, known primarily for his work as a spoken-word performer in the 1970s and 1980s. His collaborative efforts with musician Brian Jackson featured a musical fusion of jazz, blues, and soul, as well as lyrical content concerning social and political issues of the time, delivered in both rapping and melismatic vocal styles by Scott-Heron. (Broken Radio took the liberty to make an edit to suit current times)

I have to hand it to Hindus and Hindutva fanatics, they know how to create a movement to rally around. Only a small segment of the Indian population actually follows a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle, but these folks have been able to take their ideas mainstream and weaponize it. PM Modi backed goons are rampaging the streets killing people for their eating habits while Modi is busy clicking selfies and his pet CM Yogi busy drinking cow piss.

On Thursday a 15-year-old Muslim boy, returning home from Eid shopping with his three brothers, was killed in a brutal assault by a mob of about 20 men on a train in the north Indian state of Haryana.

Police say that the reason for Junaid Khan’s murder – in which his three siblings were also injured by the knife-wielding mob – was mainly because of a row over seat space on the train.

But a man arrested for being part of the mob said on TV that he was goaded into it by others because Muslims ate beef.

Shaqir, one of the surviving brothers, told reporters in the hospital that the attackers “flung our skull caps, pulled my brother’s beard, slapped us, and taunted us about eating beef”.

Under Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalist BJP, the cow has become a polarising animal and religious divisions are widening. Restrictions on the sale and slaughter of cows are fanning confusion and vigilantism.

Two years ago, a mob killed farm worker Mohammed Akhlaq over “rumours” that his family had stored and eaten beef.

I would refrain from teaching you what kind of meat is good for you and what might turn you into a devil but here are some facts for you:

It’s healthy. There are 29 lean cuts of beef, according to USDA standards. Beef provides nutrients like zinc, iron, protein and B vitamins, and half of the fat found in beef is monounsaturated, the same heart-healthy fats found in olive oil.

It’s easy. Using recipes from beefitswhatsfordinner.com, beef is an easy addition to a well-balanced meal. Simply fire up the grill or turn on the slow cooker, and you’ve got a healthy, simple meal that stars meat.

It’s environmentally friendly. Cattle graze on land that is too steep, hilly or rocky for farming. Cattle aerate the soil and eat brush, which is good for wildfire management. Check out our Earth Day page to find more reasons why beef production is good for the planet.

It’s affordable. Calorie-for-calorie, beef is more nutrient dense than vegetarian protein options like peanut butter, tofu or beans. You get more nutritional bang for your buck by choosing healthy, lean animal proteins.

It’s kind. Cattlemen care about their livestock; it makes good business sense and it’s the right thing to do. Respectfully harvesting these animals to nourish people is a part of the circle of life, and something that ranchers take very seriously.

It will make you feel sexy. Without protein as the center of my diet, I feel depleted of energy. Sure, vegetables and fruits are great, but without protein power, I’m not strong. And, being strong is sexy! Be inspired by all the Team Beef members who are out leading busy, active lifestyles, competing in triathalons, marathons and more!

Today morning we all agreed that organized religion breeds hatred and is mostly based on a captivating story. Let’s talk about one today, before we discuss our so called Hindu Savior leaders.

Hanuman , he’s a well regarded mythological figure. Mythology means – a collection of myths, especially one belonging to a particular religious or cultural tradition. As per Hindu mythology, Hanuman is a divine monkey who was Ram’s companion.

The texts mention about a scholar Raavan, who was blessed by Lord Shiva (a yogi – one who masters the ancient, mystic art of yoga). Raavan was of higher intellect. He was regarded as someone so intelligent that he is widely believed to have 10 heads, meaning he was wiser than ten collective wise men. Raavan’s sister fell in love with Ram. Ram was already married. So Ram rejected her and instructed his younger brother to chop her nose off to teach her a lesson.

Let’s pause and understand the story. Ram was exiled by his own family. Family is always regarded as the pillar of love and support. Parents never abandon children, even in dire circumstances. Ram must have done at least something to piss his people to bring the exile upon himself. No one denies this fact.

A women fell in love with a married man. I understand, even in today’s society it’s considered a taboo. But, Is it unconstitutional? Did she commit a felony? No. She did not. As a matter of fact she didn’t even know, Ram was an unavailable man. She just fell in love with a misogynist. A man who was so blind and greedy that he abandoned his wife also, later on, questioning her integrity. The same wife who blessed him with her unconditional love and shared the pains of exile with him equally.

This man had no right to physically harm a woman. If he wasn’t interested, he could have ended things on a polite note and maybe people would have wrote sonnets about this incomplete love. But he being a women hater, choose to punish Raavan’s for her forthcoming conduct. Feminists, I hope you listening now.

Raavan being a scholar and a warrior choose to punish Ram. He took his pride away. He stole Ram’s wife. Now Ram who is supposedly worshiped as one of the strongest men, failed to defend his wife. How Ironical! I guess the exile was well deserved.

Someone who cannot defend his wife, no one would imagine him to defend an entire country.

Anyways, his divine monkey friend decided to help him out. This divine monkey went with a bag full of tricks and burnt a city which was a center of trade and a symbol of prosperity – Lanka. A city so legendary that the walls were made of gold. It’s referred as the Golden Lanka. And then finally Ram defeated Raavan with the help of an army of chimps, plotting an assassination by the help of Raavan’s jilted, traitor of a brother.

Ram freed his wife and then abandoned her.

The crux of the story – Be a hater. Hate women. Question their integrity. And hate anyone who is wise and powerful because you are petty within.

Now let’s see our two biggest Indian leaders. PM Modi and CM Yogi. They both hate women. PM Modi abandoned his wife. Yogi never got married. They both are extremely narrow minded and resort to primal selves when feel threatened. Modi is known to have reached his throne of seven kingdoms by trampling and climbing over more than a millions of riot victims.

Hanuman, the divine monkey brought riot in Lanka. Yogi’s men – Hindu Sena do the same. They have figured out that a big riot can cause global pressure. So now it’s two killings each day. Solves the purpose and doesn’t bring any shame. That’s smart thinking.

I pledge to vote for the Monkey Men in 2019. Monkey power rocks India. Indians hate being called snake charmers. I think Monkey Men would be okay with them.

Recently I have been writing about Islam and Prophet (PBUH), a lot. So, I can’t really blame him. People always perceive and believe the easiest possible explanation . What they fail to grasp is, religion, like any other belief is just a web of entangled, confused, misinterpreted, set of words and quotes. It’s just another story and most certainly a captivating one. Now, when it comes to all the floating stories currently on paper and in tube, I like the love story of Khadeeja the Great and Prophet more than any other. It makes a lot of sense. Out of sheer love came a set of belief so powerful that it swept the world. The belief system is extremely strong and only preaches love and love and love and love and love, UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

Topless activists of the Ukrainian women movement Femen take part in a protest against the fierce opposition from the Roman Catholic Church to authorise gay marriage on November 18, 2012 in Paris. AFP PHOTO KENZO TRIBOUILLARD FRANCE-FEMEN-HOMOSEXUALITY-DEMO

“George Carlin – When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims, religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever ’til the end of time!

But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can’t handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit”

“Bill Maher: The irony of religion is that because of its power to divert man to destructive courses, the world could actually come to an end. The plain fact is, religion must die for mankind to live. The hour is getting very late to be able to indulge in having in key decisions made by religious people. By irrationalists, by those who would steer the ship of state not by a compass, but by the equivalent of reading the entrails of a chicken. George Bush prayed a lot about Iraq, but he didn’t learn a lot about it. Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking. It’s nothing to brag about. And those who preach faith, and enable and elevate it are intellectual slaveholders, keeping mankind in a bondage to fantasy and nonsense that has spawned and justified so much lunacy and destruction. Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don’t have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it’s wonderful when someone says, “I’m willing, Lord! I’ll do whatever you want me to do!” Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas. And anyone who tells you they know, they just know what happens when you die, I promise you, you don’t. How can I be so sure? Because I don’t know, and you do not possess mental powers that I do not. The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions is not the arrogant certitude that is the hallmark of religion, but doubt. Doubt is humble, and that’s what man needs to be, considering that human history is just a litany of getting shit dead wrong. This is why rational people, anti-religionists, must end their timidity and come out of the closet and assert themselves. And those who consider themselves only moderately religious really need to look in the mirror and realize that the solace and comfort that religion brings you actually comes at a terrible price. If you belonged to a political party or a social club that was tied to as much bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, violence, and sheer ignorance as religion is, you’d resign in protest. To do otherwise is to be an enabler, a mafia wife, for the true devils of extremism that draw their legitimacy from the billions of their fellow travelers. If the world does come to an end here, or wherever, or if it limps into the future, decimated by the effects of religion-inspired nuclear terrorism, let’s remember what the real problem was that we learned how to precipitate mass death before we got past the neurological disorder of wishing for it. That’s it. Grow up or die.”

Eid al-Fitr was originated by the Islamic prophet Muhammad. It is observed on the first of the month of Shawwal at the end of the month of Ramadan, during which Muslims undergo a period of fasting.

According to certain traditions, these festivals were initiated in Medina after the migration of Muhammad from Mecca. Anas reports:

When the Prophet arrived in Madinah, he found people celebrating two specific days in which they used to entertain themselves with recreation and merriment. He asked them about the nature of these festivities at which they replied that these days were occasions of fun and recreation. At this, the Prophet remarked that the Almighty has fixed two days [of festivity] instead of these for you which are better than these: Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha

For Muslims, both the festivals of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha are occasions for showing gratitude to Allah and remembering Him, as well as giving alms to the poor.

With God’s grace, Broken Radio team always tries to celebrate Eid in the world’s highly regarded mosque – Jama Masjid. We spent the whole day, praying, celebrating and trying to capture the soul of this festival in few, remarkable, never-seen-before pictures.

Eid al-Fitr is being celebrated today. A festival which is a celebration after a 30 day pious cleansing of the soul, that marks the end of Ramadan. We would be bringing you more news from Jama Masjid, New Delhi in the afternoon. Here’s few pictures to exhilarate you this fine morning :